Truth or dare
by Skiefyer
Summary: Gwen giggled, rather evilly in Merlin’s opinion, and lent forward conspiratorially before whispering in his ear. “I dare you to profess your undying love and then kiss Arthur.”
1. Chapter 1

"_Mer_lin!"

Merlin sighed, this was probably the oh, twentieth time _today _that Arthur had called him in that exact tone, the same inflection and everything, and after months of experience with _that _tone he knew it meant there was some disaster he had to take care of. And usually, actually without fail, it had something to do with Arthur's general inability to actually function like a normal human being. Although, now that he really thought about it, it was probably more due to his _refusal _to do so, rather than any kind of mental or physical impairment. However he had never quite made his mind up about that one.

"_Mer_lin!"

"I'm _coming_!" he yelled, kind of exasperated with being treated like not just Arthur's manservant but his proverbial nanny. I mean come on; the guy was like eighteen and expected to be taken care of like a three-year old. Then again, he did act mentally like a three year old from time to time, although Merlin was pretty sure that was only for the benefit of Arthur's own personal campaign to annoy him.

"So's my 80th birthday feast but I'm pretty sure it'll arrive before you do. And don't you use that impertinent tone with me; I'm the crown prince you know."

"How could I forget?" Merlin muttered under his breath as he turned the doorknob and entered what he expected to be a disaster zone much like he had to experience every morning for the foreseeable future. The sight, when it hit him, hit him hard. At first he thought he was hallucinating, like that would actually happen in real life. And yet, when he pinched himself it refused to disappear. Arthur turned around rather awkwardly as he opened the door and motioned him to come closer.

"Finally, I thought I'd be stuck in this forever." As he noticed that Merlin was still standing at the door and looking rather petrified to boot, his slightly relieved expression turned to one of peeved annoyance. "Well come on, don't just stand there like some sort of monument to idiocy, help me get out of this thing."

Merlin blinked once, then twice, then thrice before realizing that not only was Arthur struggling awkwardly with a rather monstrous looking dress and a black wig, he was also wearing the garish face paint that Morgana and Gwen seemed perpetually obsessed with. His jaw dropped and he grabbed the door frame for support as his traitorous knees had decided to buckle most inconveniently. Arthur, having finally realized what had prompted Merlin's reaction started to smirk and lifted one eyebrow in a patronising look with the ease of one who practices these things.

"What, have you never seen a _dress _before? Or is it the make-up? You know, from a certain angle I think I do look rather dashing."

As Merlin's jaw dropped further down his chest (Arthur had somehow managed to say the previous sentence in a _very _convincing and well, slightly disturbing girly voice) Arthur began to shake with laughter. As his laughter became more pronounced and less controllable he tripped over the dress and landed unceremoniously on the floor. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have ranted and then angrily sent Merlin to the stocks because of course he must have told the dress to trip him – crown princes just didn't trip out of their own volition. But this was not normal circumstances. Instead, Arthur continued to laugh uncontrollably, his make-up smeared by the tears running down his face.

When Merlin had finally recovered enough to speak he voiced his concern for Arthur's obviously fragile mental state.

"Uh Arthur," he began eloquently, "you are wearing a dress."

"Why thank you Merlin," Arthur gasped between bursts of laughter, "I had no idea!" Because he didn't trust himself to say anything else on the matter (Arthur's good mood was really, really, disturbing and he didn't want to end up in the stocks if he somehow spoilt his…fun) Merlin simply reverted into autopilot manservant mode.

"Did you need me for something, um sire?"

Arthur's laughter slowly died down until it reached the controllable stage and he began to make a rather futile effort to get up off of the floor.

"Ah yes," he said, "I need you to…oomph."

This time Merlin was the one laughing, and although he tried gallantly to hide it he just couldn't, the site of Arthur, the crown prince, best swordsman in the palace and all the other stuff he liked to boast about had just been beaten by a dress. Arthur, angry now that he was the one being laughed at (it never crossed his mind that maybe it was just a little bit funny) began to frown.

"I didn't ask you to come here to laugh at me." He said petulantly, "I wanted you to help me get this thing off."

"Oh come on Arthur," Merlin laughed, "you have to admit that was funny."  
"Not from where I'm standing." He crossed his arms and glared. Despite his attempt to appear serious and wronged, Merlin detected a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Sitting." Merlin corrected with a smirk and then started laughing again. Arthur, now unable to control it, laughed along with Merlin, despite that fact that he was actually laughing at himself.

After the laughter had subsided somewhat, Merlin decided it was about time to help Arthur out of his dress. Some impish desire in him prompted him to say the words aloud.

"Would you like me to help you out of your dress, _sire_?"

Arthur, having seen the humour in the situation, said in his creepy and disturbing imitation of a girl's voice "why yes daaarling. Purple just simply isn't my colour."

With that the two of them collapsed into hopeless laughter.

Later, after Merlin had helped Arthur out of the dress and had successfully removed all the make-up from his face, Arthur put an arm on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Not a word of this to _anyone._" He said firmly, "or else I'll make you do something incredibly unpleasant and then sentence you to the stocks for a year. And then for good measure I'll make you do something else unpleasant and repeat the whole punishment…seven times. "

Merlin raised an eyebrow, "you're really unimaginative, you know that?"

Arthur growled threateningly.

"Okay, okay. I won't tell anyone, but seriously, you have to tell me, _why _were you wearing it in the first place?"

"It was a dare."

"A dare?"

"Yes Merlin, a dare. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

"So who dared you?"

"Morgana"

"Oh. So why'd you do it?"

"Because we have this little…game, where we either dare each other something or ask a question that the other has to answer honestly."

"Is it just you and Morgana?"

"No, Gwen's involved too."

"I see," Merlin's face suddenly lit up and Arthur could have sworn he had actually seen the wheels turning. "Is that why Morgana was stalking Gaius the other week then?"

"Yes."

And why Gwen kept stealing my shoes?"

"Err, yes."

"Who dared her to do that?"

"Err, me."

"Hmm…can I join?"

"Why?"

"Sounds like fun. Please?"

Against his better judgement, Arthur agreed. Weeks later he would realise that it was probably the worst mistake he had made in his life…or not, depending on the way you look at it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, much appreciated.

"Arrrrrthurrrr…"

Arthur, striding hurriedly down the corridor, paused briefly in mid-step to wince – although trying to get him to admit that would be somewhat like pulling teeth or perhaps asking a goldfish to breathe outside of the water tank. Because everyone knows that crown princes don't wince, it simply isn't manly. And besides, even if Arthur did wince no-one would dare call it an actual 'wince', it would be more of a slight shudder – much like the tiny kind of tremble that one submits to in a potentially horrifying situation…just like the one which Arthur was currently trying to outrun, and in failing that, ignore.

"Arrrrrthurrrr…"

There came that dreaded wince again, as the rather delighted sing-song voice penetrated the comfort he usually took in marching around the castle like he owned the place, which when you thought about it, he kind of did, or would eventually anyway…it was only a matter of time. In any case, there was a sort of peaceful state of self-adulation one could achieve when all others bowed respectfully as one passed. Unfortunately for Arthur, this state could not be achieved while Morgana's admittedly melodious, and yet irritatingly persistent voice continued to assail his rather delicate princely ears. With a harried sigh he came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to face her, his annoyance written clearly on his face in the hopes that she would read it and decide she preferred to live. But since when was Arthur that lucky?

"Arrrrthurrr…" she called again, gleefully ignoring the irritation he practically exuded, _bad aura there_, she noted, _Arthur's been brooding again_.

"What could possibly be so damn important that you felt the need to shadow me around the castle for the past hour?" Arthur practically growled, sounding much like some sort of riled wild animal, and for all intents and purposes, he was.

Morgana smiled an infuriating and gleeful smile, "I just wanted to know how this morning went," and promptly giggled as the image of Arthur in all his female glory appeared in her minds-eye.

Arthur frowned, his eyes darkening as he remembered that the entire reason behind that morning's embarrassment was standing right in front of him…and there were no witnesses.

"You're lucky I'm so incredibly controlled," he muttered threateningly.

"Ooooh," Morgana gasped in mock fear, "so _scary_."

Arthur's next stream of words was practically unintelligible and the few words Morgana could pick up she simply ignored, it was better for both of them that way.

"So anyway," she grinned slyly, "I heard a certain knight in shining orange armour had a thing for '_Arthura', _the new courtier this morning…"

Arthur blushed slightly at the memory, now that had been _awkward._ There were truly no words to describe just how mortifying that part of his morning had been. It was so humiliating in fact that he had promptly repressed the memory, only to have Morgana laughingly bring it up _again_. Oh he was so going to have his revenge at the next truth or dare meeting.

"And when he actually asked you to accompany him to the feast…I thought I was going to die I was laughing so hard."

Arthur blanched at the all too clear memory…

_They had met, as they always did, in the empty closet that was conveniently next door to Morgana's room. Why they didn't just meet in Morgana's room was a mystery to most, if not all of them. The closet, they supposed, lent more mystery, more suspense and a greater feeling of well, something else that they felt not Morgana's or anyone else's rooms would. They met at the arranged hour, ten on the dot. They would have met at twelve for obvious reasons, but it was much harder to be up and about at midnight without being asked awkward questions, and the whole point of the game was that it was a secret…it was so much more fun that way. Not to mention more embarrassing. So as ten approached they all inconspicuously piled into the storeroom, one by one (less suspicion that way) and prepared to get down to business. Gwen, the unofficial candle-lighter, time-keeper, truth-and-dare recorder, and creepy-voice person called the 'meeting' to order with a quiet "attention". The other two, through royal and of higher status than the simple handmaid, promptly quieted down and turned to face her, unquestioningly obeying her orders. _

"_The tenth night-hour is nigh," she began in a spooky voice, actually it was creepy, "and the candle is all but burnt to the stub. Now is the time, for the game to begin." She picked up a small black book; its pages edged in gold and flipped it open to the most recent entry._

"_The last dare was created by Arthur and served by Gwen," she read, "it involved stealing the personal effects, in particular the shoes of one Merlin Emrys." _

_Arthur stifled a grin at the mention of his dare, he'd been quite proud of that one. It had been fairly amusing to see Merlin constantly at a loss about where his shoes had gone. He also learnt that the boy only had like, one pair of shoes, how ever did he survive?_

"_Now the truth-or-dare mantel falls to Morgana who must either ask Arthur a question which he must answer truthfully, or dare him to do anything her mind can conceive. Do you accept this responsibility?" She asked gravely._

"_I do." Morgana intoned, eyes glinting with excitement, she had the best dare in store for her somewhat finicky 'brother'._

"_Very well," Gwen said, "you may begin."_

"_Arthur," began Morgana, trying valiantly to contain her enthusiasm lest he guess what she had in store for him, "truth or dare?"_

"_Dare." Arthur replied, as she had known he would. The guy never said truth, ever. It was as if he had something to hide, and maybe he did. He had been brooding a lot lately. _

"_Arthur Pendragon, I dare you to dress up as a girl and attend the breakfast feast as 'Arthura', the new courtier."  
Arthur blinked at her in astonishment, "you want me to do what?"_

_Morgana grinned evilly as Gwen giggled, "you heard me." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and in Arthurs opinion it didn't suit her one bit, "or are you too afraid?"_

_And as she had quite correctly predicted, Arthur was incredibly predictable after all, his pride flared at the insult and he stated hotly, "of course I'm not!"_

"_Then come tomorrow morning I look forward to meeting Arthura," Morgana smiled, "I've even picked out a dress for you to wear."_

"_But what if they know it's me?" Arthur, despite his crown prince pride, looked worried._

"_They won't," Morgana smiled again, "when I'm done even your own father won't recognise you!"_

_Then Gwen spoke again to end the meeting. "Arthur, do you accept the dare Morgana has requested?"_

_He sighed, "I do."_

"_Very well," Gwen grinned, "I declare this meeting over."_

"_This is wonderful," Morgana flounced over to Arthur and patted him on the head, "I've always wanted a sister."_

_Arthur sighed, and wondered how he had gotten himself into this undoubtedly embarrassing mess. __**Morgana**__, he thought darkly, __**the source of all humiliating situations I've ever found myself in.**_

_The next morning he was rudely awakened by a dangerously excited Morgana who ripped off his nice, warm blankets, completely disregarding the fact that he slept as nature intended and proceeded to drag him, unceremoniously, out of bed. Due to the fact that he was still somewhat groggy and disorientated he didn't quite realise that he stood before Morgana in all his naked glory. She however, had finally deigned to notice and blushed slightly before throwing him a pair of loose pants to put on. He put them on, resigned to his fate and listened as she told him of her master plan. An hour later he stood in front of a mirror, mortified at the sight of himself in a garishly purple dress, black wig and copious amounts of make-up that, actually, did wonders to hide his identity. Astounded, he peered closely at the mirror before concluding that Morgana was right, Uther probably wouldn't recognise him at all. So much so the better. _

"_Ready sunshine?" Morgana chirped happily, her dream, well one of them, was finally coming true and she would relish in every moment, "it's time for breakfast."_

_Arthur grimaced before allowing Morgana to lead him out of the safety of his room (and leaving many guards with raised eyebrows at the pair exiting from Arthur's room) and down to the chamber where breakfast was taking place. When they reached the chamber Morgana gleefully introduced him as 'Arthura', a new courtier at the castle and sat him down, to his immense discomfort, next to Lancelot, before settling herself across the table from him so she could observe, and take great pleasure, in his embarrassment._

"_So Arthura," Lancelot made a gallant attempt at conversation, "new at the castle huh? Enjoying it so far?"_

"_Somewhat," Arthur squeaked. Yes, squeaked. He was trying hard not to sound like himself, and what better way to sound unlike himself than to squeak. Because as I'm sure you've all guessed by now, crown princes do not squeak, it's way to undignified._

_Lancelot laughed, "well I'm sure it'll get better," he smiled at him, "I remember when I first came to Camelot, wow, that sure was an eye-opener."_

_Arthur remembered well the events that followed Lancelot's arrival but decided that as 'Arthura' he really wouldn't have a clue what Lancelot was alluding too._

"_Oh, well," he said ambiguously, "I really wouldn't know, being new here and all."_

"_Yes," Lancelot smiled charmingly, "I don't suppose you would."_

_Across the table from 'Arthura', Morgana snorted and then quickly tried to hide it when Lancelot turned to give her a questioning glace._

"_Bad juice," she managed, trying desperately to retain her laughter._

_Lancelot turned back to 'Arthura', his mind trying desperately to come up with something even remotely witty to impress her/him with._

"_So," he began, "the, ummm, table cloths are quite lovely aren't they?"_

'_Arthura' gave him a confused and slightly bewildered look, "Ah yes," he muttered, "quite." While thinking, is Lancelot seriously talking about the table cloths? What on earth has gotten into him? I thought he had a brain._

_Lancelot, aware of his previous failure tried again, "but they really don't compare to your beauty, you know."_

'_Arthura' froze and almost fell off his chair in shock. Is he seriously __**flirting **__with me? He shot a panicked gaze across at Morgana who was laughing so hard she had adopted the pretence of a rather severe coughing fit. _

"_Arthura?" Lancelot questioned. _

"_Yes?" He squeaked, and this time it was no façade. This was an honest to God, full on, Arthurian, squeak. Oh how much fun Morgana must be having he thought darkly._

"_Would you come with, I mean, would you give me the honour of attending the banquet tonight with me?" Lancelot searched her/his face for an answer but didn't really find anything either way as 'Arthura's' face had relocated to the floor, this time he had actually fallen off his chair._

_Morgana, stifling her laughter stood up and apologised, saying something about low blood-pressure and of course 'Arthura' would love to go with Lancelot, but if he would excuse her she would take 'Arthura' to Gaius just to make sure she hadn't hurt herself in her fall. To which of course Lancelot replied something like, 'oh here, let me carry her.'_

_And that was how Arthur found himself being carried by Lancelot (who remarked somewhat stupidly that 'Arthura' weighed a lot more that she looked), followed by a smirking Morgana, to see a rather bemused Gaius and eventually to be found by a stunned Merlin._

_It was all Morgana's fault. _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Again, thanks for all the reviews…could use a few more though…not that I'm fishing or anything.

"Morgana!"

Morgana, walking fairly hurriedly – after all, she had to get ready for the banquet that evening – turned the corner and found that the corridor looked suspiciously like Lancelot's own specially orange suit of armour – which he never, ever, got out of. Seriously, did he even bathe? The smell emanating from the suit of armour suggested to the rather disgusted Morgana that he probably didn't. She shuddered.

"Morgana!" Lancelot said again, and this time he sounded slightly worried. "I'm sorry I ran into you, it's just, well, I've been searching the castle and – wow, you're probably the person I should ask anyway, hey? 'Because you know her best don't you? Well, anyway, you introduced her, right? So you have to know where she is! You know I've searched the castle like five times, and Uther and Arthur and the other knights are wondering what I'm doing, and thinking I'm crazy and…"

"Lancelot!" Morgana interrupted him, and with immense relief on Morgana's part, Lancelot's rambling ceased.

"Now," she instructed him sternly, treating him a lot like an excited child, which was exactly the way he was acting presently. _Jeeze, _she though with a sigh, _is childishness a trademark for knights or something? I guess if Arthur's anything to go by…_

"Slow down, and make some sense."

Lancelot took a deep breath, "Okay, I'm looking for Arthura, have you seen her?"  
Morgana's mouth dropped open; well it would have if she were not both a lady and the King's ward. As it was, her mouth quivered slightly – whether in laughter or shock, no one knows.

"Oh Lancelot," she said, trying her best to look apologetic as she fabricated a story, "did no one tell you?"

"Tell me what?" he asked nervously and then answered his question, "Oh, she doesn't want to go with me, does she?" he sighed dejectedly, "I should have known, you know even Gweneviere turned me down? And she's just a handmaid…what chance did I have with a lady like Arthura?"

Morgana stifled a grin, she knew the real reason why Gwen had turned Lancelot down, and it had more to do with a certain manservant than any kind of personal reflection on Lancelot. And of course, she knew the truth behind the mysterious 'Arthura', she had created her after all.

"Lancelot," she tried her best to look serious, "Arthura really did want to go with you. It's just, she got called away on a family emergency – actually she asked me to give you her apologies and to tell you that she'd be thinking of you."

Lancelot looked suspiciously at Morgana and narrowed his eyes "really? You're not just lying to make me feel better?"

"Of course not," Morgana admonished, her face assuming an angelic innocence, "Why would I do such a thing?

A slight grin wormed its way across Lancelot's features and his face practically lit up, "oh wonderful!" he exclaimed, and resisted the urge to jump for joy, nothing else like a good joy jump to lower ones place in another's esteem.

Morgana was actually feeling slightly guilty about poor Lancelot's plight. He was practically falling for Arthur in a girls costume at an alarming rate. Granted, he had no idea it was Arthur underneath all the makeup and costume but seriously, he'd only just met 'Arthura'. _Either Arthur really is as good as he claims to be, or Lancelot's super quick to form attachments_ she thought as she considered that fact that maybe this plight was just a little bit her fault. Okay, maybe all of her fault. She may not have dared Arthur to flirt with Lancelot, but she had dressed him in the outfit and sat him next to Lancelot. Granted, she had no idea that Lancelot would form such a strong attachment in the space of like, five minutes. Nor had she even entertained the idea that Lancelot would do more than make polite conversation. Now, she had a mess to clean up, and hopefully poor Lancelot wouldn't get hurt in the process. Sighing (on the inside), she couldn't let Lancelot think she was doing this out of pity or something, and _especially _out of guilt. "Now how about you escort me to the banquet tonight and we can have a little 'chat' about Arthura?"

Lancelot's grin grew so big that Morgana was slightly worried that the corners of his mouth were in danger of melding with his eyes.

"I'd love to," he bowed gallantly; "I'll meet you in front of your room at the seventh bell."

She nodded and as she began to walk away he quickly picked up her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it lightly, his warm brown eyes glowing. As he released her hand he whispered 'thank you' before hurriedly continuing down the corridor, only this time there was a noticeable spring in his step.

_Oh dear,_ Morgana sighed, _he's in way too deep._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………_......._

"_Mer_lin!"

As that one, dreaded word reached Merlin's ears he froze, completely, utterly and some would soon believe irreversibly.

"_Mer_lin!"

There it came again, but Merlin moved not a muscle. Those around him looked on in slight amusement and bewilderment. How on earth had he frozen in that position anyway? He had frozen in the middle of a staircase and was kind-of mid step, his foot almost, but not quite, touching the next step while his other foot had almost, but again, not quite, lifted entirely off the bottom step. His weight, which miraculously was not wobbling around, had centred somewhere in-between the two, actually four (he had such long legs he tended to jump them) steps that lay underneath his poised body. If the on-watchers didn't know any better they would have assumed he was using magic, but this was Merlin, so yeah right, like that could ever happen. Gee he was so lucky they always assumed the worst of him. Even in the most incriminating situations, he always seemed to pull the wool over their unsuspecting eyes. And yet again, despite this blatant, and admittedly accidental, show of something not quite natural, they again clocked it to his unusual-_ness _and got on with their menial lives.

Meanwhile, Merlin was still petrified, much like he was earlier in the story only to a greater extent considering no magic was used the first time. Although, this _magic _was only really a self-preservation measure, as without it he would surely have broken his neck tumbling down the stairs. Really, he could have selected a better place to turn into a stone. But then, this was Merlin.

"_Mer_lin?"

Arthur, having gone through almost all seven stages of _the late manservant _(1: Tyrannical summoning, 2: anxious awaiting, 3: repeat of stage 1, 4: peeved annoyance, 5: serious irritation, 6: unpredictable anger) had progressed to the seventh stage: actual, honest to God, worry. Yes, you read right, worry. Arthur was worried. I'll write it again so we all get the picture; He. Was. Worried.

For all Merlin's faults and general un-manservant like actions, he was mostly on time. And if he was not on time, he was generally there by Arthur's twentieth call. But again, he was mostly on time. Even if he had to slide down a staircase or do something else equally as dramatic and not nearly as efficient, he was mostly on time. He was really reliable that way, kind-of like the light you know will turn on around fifty percent of the time, and if you just stand there and the flick the switch for several minutes it will definitely consider obeying. Although to be fair, Merlin was not nearly as sporadic as the proverbial light. Anyway, back to the most important thing in the story, Arthur's worrying.

He briefly considered sending a search party out for the wayward manservant but then decided that would be too much effort. Instead, he decided he'd simply search for Merlin himself…and then give him hell for ignoring him. Funny how Arthur's mind works, isn't it? He dragged something just barely wearable out of his closet and dressed before heading to the door. He sort of flew down the stairs so fast he almost didn't see Merlin kind-of frozen half-way up, or down, whichever way you want to look at it. As Arthur would undoubtedly boast later, it was his lightning-fast reflexes that helped him skid to a halt, nose inches away from Merlin's, just shy of sending them both tumbling into a future of agony and broken bones. It took Arthur all of three seconds to fully realize who was blocking his way down the staircase. Funnily enough, he promptly forgot that he was in fact looking for Merlin and began to berate him for being in his way. After about five seconds (gee he catches on fast), he realized that Merlin was paying him absolutely no attention whatsoever. He began to get slightly mad. It was one thing for Merlin to be late and then almost cause him to break his royal neck, but it was another entirely for Merlin to _ignore _him. After another three minutes of yelling he finally realized that Merlin was seriously unresponsive. And then he began to worry. Wow, twice in one day, must be a record. With the vigour of one who knows he must restore his manservant to the land of the living, or else face the disastrous proposition of dressing himself for the banquet, Arthur began to poke and prod Merlin, hard. After awhile, rather anti-climactically, Merlin began to stir and then promptly decided his nose needed to acquaint itself with the floor, or rather the staircase. Before it could do so however, Arthur caught him and steadied him.

"You alright?" He asked cautiously, but not uncaringly, his hands hadn't left Merlin's shoulders, it was like he was afraid he'd suddenly topple over and fall down the stairs. Which, knowing Merlin, was actually a feasible possibility.

"Well I was walking up the stairs and heard your voice, in_ that_ tone and then I just froze."

"What tone? Just froze?" Arthur questioned curiously, maybe Merlin was afflicted by some strange disease.

"Yeah," Merlin nodded his head emphatically an impish gleam in his eyes, "you know," he said thoughtfully, "it may have been the thought of finding you in another dress." At Arthur's shocked silence he nodded again, "yep, that's probably it."

Arthur promptly removed his hands from Merlin's shoulders, whirled around and stomped up the stairs because honestly, there wasn't much he could say to that.

Merlin, eyes still gleaming impishly, laughed quietly and followed Arthur up the stairs. _And that, _he thought, feeling very satisfied, _is that._ He was so immersed in his self-congratulatory thoughts (it wasn't often that he got one over Arthur, seriously the prince had an impressive repertoire of scathing remarks and he wasn't adverse to using them either. Merlin often wondered if he thought of them himself or had hired somewhat to do it for him. Personally, he voted for the former; Arthur was very good at being a prat.), that the shoe, when it hit him, caused him to jump three feet in the air and fall backwards onto his rear end.

"What was that for?" he asked Arthur, face the picture of a wronged manservant.

"It was for your own good," Arthur inclined his head slightly and raised his eyebrows in the typical 'I'm doing you a favour' face, "you looked like you were drifting into a coma."

"While standing up?" Merlin asked, unbelieving

"Yes, and it was my duty to bring you back by any means necessary." At this Arthur grinned and tossed the other shoe at him, "come on then, you have to dress me for the banquet."

"Of course," Merlin muttered, "God forbid you dress yourself, the world might implode."

To Merlin's surprise Arthur just laughed, "You're absolutely right, and we can't have that can we?"

"No, I don't suppose we could," Merlin replied absently as he searched Arthur's rather impressive wardrobe for something he hadn't left crumpled on the floor. Although, actually it was Merlin's job to hang everything up. He finally selected a reddish outfit and brought it out for Arthur's approval. When he received it he began to help him dress, wincing again as memories of earlier that morning plagued his mind. He really was scarred for life. With Arthur all dressed the two of them left his rooms together and headed down to the dining hall, Arthur to oversee preparations, and Merlin to prepare.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Morgana brushed her hair for the fifth time that evening and then ran her fingers through it.

"You know that's almost counter-productive," Gwen said from behind her, "here, let me do it."

Morgana relinquished the brush and folded her hands neatly across her lap, the very picture of calm and order. Her thoughts however, were anything but. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to let Lancelot down about 'Arthura' and the guilt of it all gnawed on her subconscious like a mouse to cheese. She felt like her insides were being compressed together, she could barely breathe, although that could be due to the corset she was somewhat reluctantly wearing. In any case, she felt the whole situation was solely and entirely her fault and that there was no foreseeable way out of it without hurting Lancelot. Why did Arthur have to look good even in a dress? It simply wasn't fair. And then, in a moment of complete genius, and utter insanity, she had an idea. And it involved Merlin.

A/N: I'm sorry to leave it here but I couldn't resist. Seriously, who doesn't love a cliffhanger? I promise the next chapter will come quicker…review?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I know I promised to update quickly and that I haven't, but I actually have a reason as to why I didn't. Firstly, my computer had a heart attack and had to go into the store to be resuscitated. Secondly, my internet got the aging disease and is now taking several centuries to load a single word on any page. There's also my physics assignment, which demands much of my time and a lot of my words. Throw in the English feature article and the ancient multimodal and I've hit the trifecta. And then, of course, I tried to post it but FanFiction was down. So anyway, here's the fourth chapter – hopefully it was worth the wait, if not, well you don't have to read it. So, we shall begin again, as we have for the past three chapters, with a name.

"Merlin!"

As his name drifted down the corridor, Merlin fought the instinctive urge to leap behind something and simply hide from the world. He'd just about had it with people calling his name – there always seemed to be terrifying reason behind the summons, and face it, having seen what he'd seen, he was scarred for life. And so, it took all of his considerable self-control (or lack thereof) to not hide behind a wall hanging, or pretend to be a suit of armour (he'd tried that once, and actually it had worked quite well…until Arthur had suggested that if he liked playing knight so much, why didn't he try it for real?).

"Merlin!"

He glumly recognised the voice as Morgana's and winced slightly, just enough that Morgana both noticed and became annoyed.

"Merlin," she said to his back (he still hadn't turned around), "turn around and face me. This is actually quite rude."

He sighed, and spoke, as he usually did, without thinking, "I'm sorry Morgana, it's just that, I know that tone of voice, and it usually means something, and well, that something's usually unpleasant."

Raising a delicate eyebrow, Morgana affixed him with a haughty stare and tried her best not laugh at his dejected, exhausted, and slightly fearful face.

"Well Merlin," she said, her tone superior,

"I know, I know," he interrupted, waving his hands rather dramatically (presumably copying Arthur), "to the stocks. It's okay, I'll take myself there."

This time, Morgana did laugh, at least Merlin thought she was laughing. Actually, it was a bit of a cross between a giggle and a sob and quite scary, considering it was coming from Morgana.

"Oh Merlin," she managed between her giggle-sob, "I really need your help."

"Uh, it's okay," Merlin said, awkwardly patting her arm in what he hoped was a caring and reassuring way, "I'll help you, no worries."

"Oh thankyou," she said, staring up at him with large green eyes, and then suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, the giggle-sob stopped.

"Okay," she said briskly, "now that you've agreed to help, I'll detail the problem and how I plan to fix it."

Merlin stared at her, bewildered, and wondered how he'd allowed himself to be beguiled by Morgana…again. Every time she starting her laugh-cry thing he fell right into the trap, every single time, without fail. You'd think he'd learn, but really, she was a born actress, could have fooled anyone, or at least that was what he told himself. He sighed, resigned, and listened to Morgana detail his torture for the evening.

"Okay," she began, "the problem is that Lancelot is practically in love with Arthura, and both you and I know that she doesn't actually exist, kind of, at least not in the way Lancelot thinks she does."

"Okay," Merlin said slowly, "what does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting there," Morgana admonished, "Now, we have to come up with a way to let him down gently or something, I really don't want him to get hurt by this…"

"'Cause it's your fault," Merlin reminded her.

Morgana raised an eyebrow and continued, "Anyway, there's no way that Arthur can dress up tonight, he _has _to be present at the banquet or Uther will become suspicious. So," she began to grin evilly, "_You_ have to become Arthura."

Merlin stared at her in shock, "what?" He was almost certain that he hadn't heard what he thought he had. She must have said something else. There was no way she would ask this of him. No way. Unfortunately for the poor manservant, Morgana was serious.

"It's the perfect plan," she said, now excited, "you can dress up as Arthura, meet Lancelot and then, I don't know, tell him that you really like him, but unfortunately you're moving somewhere really far away. Then you can leave and everything will be alright again."

"You have _got _to be pulling my socks."

"Why would I be pulling your socks?" Morgana's brow crinkled in confusion.

"Never mind, it's a servant thing. But seriously, you have to be joking."

"I'm perfectly serious," Morgana said eagerly, "it'll work."

"I don't even look like Arthur." Merlin protested, desperate to find a way out of this.

"Neither did he when he was dressed up." Morgana reminded him, she was not letting him weasel his way out, her plan was perfect.

"Yeah, but we don't have the same build or facial structure or anything, Lancelot would be a fool to think I was him."

"I'll put makeup on you, it'll work, you'll see."

"We don't even sound the same." Merlin said weakly, "he'll hear the difference and…"

"Oh please," Morgana scoffed, "he was practically squeaking, I'm sure you could mimic that."

Abandoning his argument he began to beg, "Please Morgana, don't make me do this."

Her face softened, but her resolve did not "you have to do this Merlin, for Lancelot, and for me."

"But why don't you ask a _girl_ to do it?"

"Because the only other person who _knows _is Gwen, and she's far too noticeable."

"And I'm not?"

"Oh come on Merlin, if you didn't show up to a feast no one would notice, you miss enough of them as it is. And anyway, who in their right mind is going to think it's you anyway?"

Sighing, Merlin admitted she had a point, but he wouldn't give in that easily.

"What about Arthur? What'll he think?"

"He'll be fine with it," Morgana waved away his argument, "why should he care? It doesn't really affect him. And in any case it takes any suspicion off of him."

"Yeah but…" Merlin trailed off, she was right, Arthur wouldn't care, in fact, Arthur would love the idea. He decided to switch his tactics,

"I'm sure he'll realize that I'm not 'Arthura'," he said, "we men aren't blind you know, and he's in love – trust me, he'll know."

"Well then Merlin," Morgana grinned evilly, and Merlin had a feeling of sinking dread, that he had just let himself be backed into a corner. "You'll just have to do something special."

He gave her a strange look, considering the fact that she may just be bonkers.

"You know," she looked around the corridor to make sure no-one was around, "m-a-g-i-c"

He was absolutely stunned for all of ten seconds. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened considerably and as his heart began to beat really, really fast, he had that sense of impending doom that people get when they just _know _the end is nigh. How could she know? He'd been so careful…well, not that careful, but he'd only stuffed up once or twice, or more than that, okay, so maybe he'd been reckless, but how could Morgana have found out? As usual, he spoke without really thinking about it "How do you…" he began, before suddenly realizing that it could be a joke and that maybe he should play it cool in case he was accidentally giving himself away.

To his horror, Morgana grinned. "Oh I've known for quite awhile now," she chuckled, "and I haven't told a soul." She mentioned quickly, realizing that this might be slightly scary for him; after all, it _was _a crime punishable by death. Not something to be taken lightly. Although, now that she really thought about it, Merlin did take it lightly…really lightly.

"How?" and as he whispered, he suddenly realized that people were right about your life flashing before your eyes when you though you were going to die. He could see it now, every stupid thing he'd done that had _almost _but not quite exposed him, every thoughtless comment or action that had landed him in the stocks – even when it wasn't actually his fault, all the times he'd actually enjoyed being around Arthur, and all the times he'd wished he could be far, far away.

"Let's just say I had a dream about it."

Merlin's eyes widened, he vaguely remembered that Gaius had mentioned that Morgana was having prophetic dreams, but he'd never really put two-and-two together, that is until now.

"Oh."

"Sorry to catch you out in the cold like that Merlin," she smiled, "but I have known for a while, and you can trust me not to tell anyone."

"And what about blackmailing me into using it to help you?" he questioned harshly, he was uncharacteristically angry, and it probably had something to do with the fact that he'd just had the shock of his life and felt threatened.

"I would never," she said solemnly, placing a hand on his arm "never ever. I would only ever ask, and only if there really wasn't another alternative."

He visibly deflated, "I know," he sighed, "it's just a bit of a shock."

"Well think on the bright side," she smiled, "you don't have to hide it around one more person."

He grinned, "I could get used to that."

So are you in or not?" Morgana questioned anxiously, she really needed Merlin on board for this one – it just wouldn't work otherwise.

"Yeah okay," he said, only slightly hesitant, "but there's something you need to know about that kind of _magic_. While it will make me look like Arthur, I won't sound like him. Basically all it'll do is change what people _see, _not what I actually look like."

"Hmm," Morgana said curiously, "so it's just an illusion?"

"Yeah," he said, "and I'll have to watch out for reflective surfaces as well, because mirrors don't lie."

At Morgana's strange look he amended, "well, they can't be fooled by illusions anyway."

"Okay," she said, mentally ticking off a list of metallic things in the dining hall, "there are no mirrors so you probably only have to avoid goblets and plates and spoons and…oh dear," she sighed, "this could be difficult."

"I should be alright," Merlin said, against his better judgement, "any reflection off of cutlery or plates will probably be too distorted anyway."

"Thank you Merlin," she said, and to his great surprise, hugged him. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Anytime," he said hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to promise that, "So I guess we better start preparing then, since the banquet starts in an hour or so."

She nodded, "let's go to my room."  
She grabbed his arm and with much care, and plenty of peeking around corners to make absolutely sure that no one saw Merlin with her lest suspicions arise, they made their way through the palace and into the relative safety of her room.

"Lancelot's coming at seven so we have to hurry," she said as she selected a dress and pair of shoes for Merlin to wear. Behind her, Merlin began to process of attempting the illusion spell. It took several tries. On his first try, nothing happened – or so he thought. However, when Morgana turned around, dress in her arms, she almost dropped it.

"Uh Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to your nose?"

"I don't know Morgana, I can't see it." At this point he was slightly irritated, he was helping her after all, and he gained absolutely nothing out of this, only embarrassment.

"Ok, well, you don't want to." She smothered a giggle and turned to pick out some jewellery, makeup, and the black wig Arthur had worn that morning.

Merlin scowled and spoke the words that ended the enchantment. He then tried again, to make himself look like Arthur. He glanced at his hands, they were a bit bigger, his legs looked thicker and his chest looked a bit musclier. Just when he was about to announce that he'd done it, he wagged his tail. _What the hell_? He turned around, trying to see it, and when Morgana turned to look at him she truly thought he'd gone insane. He was chasing his tail. A tail he shouldn't actually have.

"What are you doing?" She asked, exasperated, they had little over a half hour now, and Merlin was chasing his non-existant tail.

"Er, nothing." He ended the enchantment and sighed, "This is way harder then it looks."

"Just try again," Morgana encouraged, "maybe it'll work this time."

"Thanks ever so much for your confidence," he said sarcastically and spoke the words of the spell again. This time, thankfully, it worked.

"Wow," Morgana said, awed, "you really look exactly like him. It's creepy." She beckoned him over and began the torturous process of turning him into a girl. Twenty minutes later he wished he'd had the good sense to just run when Morgana had first called his name. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw not Arthur, but himself in a dress and trying desperately to look like a girl.

"I have to say," Morgana said, looking at his reflection in the mirror, "you make a better girl than Arthur did, although," she pursed her lips, "he was more attractive."

"Why thanks Morgana," Merlin said sarcastically, "that's just what I wanted to hear." He had to admit though, the purple dress did fit him much better, Arthur's shoulders were just too broad. With a sigh he put the wig on and prepared for what he believed would be the worst night of his entire existence.

"Well you must admit," Morgana continued, "he is good looking, and while you're cute, in a pat on the head kind of way, you just don't hold a candle to Arthur. In the looks department anyway," she added hastily, "and perhaps the physical prowess department also. But not in the err, character department."

"Gee thanks Morgana," Merlin drawled, "You really know how to flatter a guy. Are you in love with him or something?"

"No," she grinned, "But I can appreciate his aesthetic value as much as the next woman."

"Wow Morgana, you make him sound like a painting." Merlin joked,

"Well, he can be awfully two-dimensional." They both laughed and then froze as they heard a knock on the door.

"Morgana?" someone called from outside her room

"Speak of the devil," she muttered and went to open the door as Merlin practically leapt off of her bed and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to hide behind her curtains. Morgana had barely reached the door when it was flung open to reveal Arthur, in all his princely finery.

"Arthur?" She questioned, confused.

"Morgana," he began, "I've come to ask you if you'd like to accompany me to the banquet this evening."

She raised an eyebrow (this seems to be a habit or hers), "Five minutes before it starts?"

"Yes, well, er," he scratched his head, which to Morgana was an indication of embarrassment, "better late than never, huh?"

"I guess," she smiled, "sure."

And of course, in accordance with Murphy's Law, it was that moment that Lancelot decided to arrive. Actually, he arrived a bit before that, just in time to hear both Arthur's question and Morgana's response, only it was in that moment that he decided to reveal himself. He stepped out of the shadows, a hurt look on his normally bright face.

"Oh hey Lancelot," Arthur clapped his friend/knight on the shoulder, before realising that Lancelot was not acknowledging him, he was staring at Morgana.

"I thought I was accompanying you Morgana," he said slowly, "but I see that you'd prefer Prince Arthur, I understand."

"What?" Arthur questioned, an annoyed look on his face, "Morgana if you already asked Lancelot then why did you say yes to me?"

"Because," she opened the door further until the two men could clearly see the feet sticking out from under the curtain, "there's someone here who wants to go with Lancelot, and I'm sure Lancelot would rather go with her than me."

Lancelot and Arthur both looked confused. As Merlin slowly poked his head around the curtain, Lancelot's face lit up and Arthur's face became even more confused.

"Arthura!" A huge smile spread across his face.

"Arthura?" Arthur questioned, shooting a curious and demanding glance at Morgana.

"Come on," she whispered and grabbed his arm, "I'll explain later," and with that she dragged Arthur down the corridor and left Merlin alone with Lancelot.

"Uh, hi Lancelot," Merlin attempted a girlish squeak as he disentangled himself from the curtain and stepped out into the room.

"I thought you had to go home for a family emergency or something?" Lancelot questioned curiously, "I'm really glad that you're here though," he said quickly.

"Oh well, I did," Merlin lied, trying his best to fabricate a story that Lancelot would believe; he was, after all, a terrible liar. "It's just that my um, uncle made a very sudden and unexpected recovery and so I didn't have to go after all."

"Oh," Lancelot said slowly, "I see."

For a second, Merlin thought that Lancelot had seen right through him.

"Well that's great," he continued with a smile and then offered his arm, "shall we?"

Nervously, awkwardly, Merlin attempted what he'd seen the court girls do when accepting an offered arm. He gently hooked his arm around Lancelot's and proceeded to sort of half-hug it. Lancelot gave him a strange, but indulgent look and led him down the corridor towards the dining hall. When they reached the hall, Lancelot led Merlin to a nearby table and pulled the chair out for him. Blushing, he'd never had this much gallantry shown to him before, Merlin tried his best to gracefully accept the chair, sat down in it, and winced as it scratched against the wooden floor as he shuffled closer to the table. Lancelot took his seat beside Merlin and began to make small talk. With his attention half on Lancelot, Merlin swept his eyes around the room and observed as he never had before – a guest. The hall was lavishly decorated, silver and gold ribbons wound their way around greyish columns. Laurel wreaths hung from them, their evergreen leaves garlanded with the brightest flowers in vibrant hues of purple, pink, red, blue and yellow. The tables bore woven cloths with similar colours, only their surfaces were decorated with vivid imagery detailing aspects of Camelot and its nobles. The candles were a deep red fraught with gold streaks and practically littered the room, their flames almost glittering amongst the décor. It was truly impressive, and at the moment, Merlin felt slightly grateful that he was here as guest, if in a dress, instead of dressing up in the ridiculous banquet outfit for servants and waiting on people all night.

"Huh?" he said eloquently (not) as Lancelot asked him a question.

"I said," Lancelot replied patiently, "how did you and Morgana meet?"

"Oh," Merlin stalled, trying to think of something, "well, I came over here briefly last year to, ummm, meet people, yeah, because my father wanted me to have friends in, umm, other places."

"I see," Lancelot said slowly, "well that would explain why I haven't met you before; I only just arrived this year. So did you just become friends straight away then?"

"Uh yeah," Merlin answered, hoping Lancelot would end the conversation there.

"So what's it like, over where you come from?" Lancelot asked curiously.

"Err; it's nice this time of year. You know…very green, lots of flowers. The weather's nice too, although, you get a few showers every now and then."

"Sounds lovely," Lancelot smiled, "where is it you come from again?"  
"Oh umm," he looked around the room for inspiration, "err, it's called Caaandle-ribbon-wreatha. That's right, Candleribbonwreatha."

"Wow, that's quite a mouthful,"

"Yeah, but we Candleribbonwreathians normally just call it the CRW. Bit easier on the tongue and all."

"Hmm," Lancelot smiled again, "the CRW, catchy."

"It is," Merlin nodded his head, he was actually getting into this, "you should come there sometime, the subjects are great, actually there's this one particular manservant that my uh, father has, his name is umm, Nilrem (for all those who missed this, it's Merlin backwards…yes, I went there.), and he's very clever, smart, intelligent and just generally great. I think you'd like him."

"Do you like this Nilrem fellow?" Lancelot asked suspiciously.

"What?" Realization dawned on Merlin, "Oh no, of course not. He's you know, just a manservant after all."

"Hmmm," Lancelot mused, "you know I'm not noble right?"

"Aren't you? Well what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you sounded like that might be a problem."

"Oh, no of course not!" Merlin said before realising that maybe that would be a good way to let Lancelot down, nothing personal right? "Actually, maybe it is."

"Oh, really?" Lancelot asked, a sad look on his face, "then why did you say it wasn't?"  
"I um, didn't want to hurt your feelings." Merlin tried to look apologetic.

"Oh, well then why did you want to come with me to the banquet?"

"Again I umm, didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Lancelot looked curiously at Merlin, "You don't seem like the kind of person who cares about station and status." He remarked, a studious look on his face.

"Umm, well," Merlin cracked, "Okay, so maybe it doesn't matter to me, but, but it matters to my father and in my family, that's all that matters."

"Oh Arthura," he said softly and reached out a hand to clasp hers, but Merlin was on a roll so he stood up and brushed the hand aside.

"I'm sorry Lancelot, but I just can't do this. I have to go, I'm leaving in the morning and I don't expect we'll see each other again, so goodbye." And with that, he stormed out of the hall, very dramatically, silently chuckling to himself the whole way. The other members of the table glared at him (everyone in the hall was now looking at their table) and Lancelot mumbled an apology before getting up to go after Merlin.

Meanwhile, over where Arthur and Morgana were sitting, a confused Arthur was more or less pelting Morgana with questions.

"Is that _Merlin _dressed up as 'Arthura' and sitting with Lancelot?" he asked incredulously.

Morgana nodded, and a gleeful look spread across Arthur's face.

"This is just too good." He laughed and clapped his hands together, "how did you make him do it? How come he looks so much like me? Why did you ask him to do it anyway?"

"Slow down," Morgana chuckled, "I just asked him."

Arthur looked at her, "okay, so there was a bit of persuasion in there. Maybe a little bit of crying, you know, I just used all my feminie whiles." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"I don't know why Merlin lets you do that," Arthur grinned, "it would never work on me."

"Sure it wouldn't."

"Okay, so how did you make him look like me? I mean, he really, really looks exactly like I did."

"Well," Morgana leaned in real close and whispered in his ear "Magic…", at this Arthur tensed, "the magic of makeup." and then laughed,

"You must have used a lot of makeup."

She nodded solemnly.

"So how come he's doing this anyway? Oh I know," he said knowingly, "you felt guilty, didn't you?"

"A little," she admitted, "it's not fair to Lancelot."

"Of course it's not," Arthur nodded, "after all, he couldn't help but fall for me."

"You are so conceited." Morgana laughed

"But you love me for it."

"In your dreams,"

Arthur grinned, yes that was right, lull Morgana into a false sense of security, and then exact his revenge. He had to restrain himself from rubbing his hands together in glee, ohh, his plan was perfect.

Back with Merlin and Lancelot (who is currently searching the palace for 'Arthura'). Merlin fled the dining hall (cackling evilly inside his head) and tripped as he was rounding a corner, sort of wobbled crazily for a bit and then crashed, unceremoniously onto the floor. Lancelot, hearing the noise came rushing around the corner, saw Merlin lying on the ground, tried his best to skid to an abrupt halt, failed, and tripped over Merlin to land face first, on the ground. Regardless of any injuries he may have sustained, he immediately leapt up and went to Merlin's side, anxiously enquiring if he was alright.

"Yes, yes I'm fine." Merlin said, picking himself up and leaning against the wall. "Happens all the time."

"That's a relief," Lancelot smiled, "for a second I thought I'd hurt you."

"Yeah well, nothing you did that the floor didn't do harder."

Lancelot smiled again, "I really love you sense of humour." Suddenly, Merlin realized that his face was much closer than it had been a second ago. It was so close that Merlin could hear Lancelot breath, could actually see the individual pores of his face, and could just about feel the skin on his nose. Way, way too close for comfort.

"Uh Lancelot," he stuttered.

"Yes?" Lancelot spoke and as he did so, Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He pressed against the wall, as if hoping it would suddenly give way and he could escape from this nightmarish situation. Lancelot moved closer, if that was possible, and now Merlin could practically feel his face with his eyelashes. _Oh no,_ he thought _here it comes._

A/N: Hehehehehehehe


	5. Chapter 5

Where we left off…

"_Uh Lancelot," he stuttered._

"_Yes?" Lancelot spoke and as he did so, Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He pressed against the wall, as if hoping it would suddenly give way and he could escape from this nightmarish situation. Lancelot moved closer, if that was possible, and now Merlin could practically feel his face with his eyelashes. Oh no, he thought here it comes._

…………………………………………………………………………………………

_Back in time, just before Merlin starts yelling at Lancelot and storms out of the room…_

"I wonder how Merlin's going to let Lancelot down," Morgana mused, her active mind conjuring up scene after scene.

"He'll tell him that he just doesn't like him," Arthur said bluntly, displaying all the heartfelt sympathy of the crown prince he prided himself upon being.

"_Without _hurting his feelings," Morgana admonished, shaking her head in good-natured dismay. Honestly, the guy had no tact; a regular sledgehammer of a man.

"How would _you _like it if someone just up and told you they didn't like you, at all?" Morgana questioned, one eyebrow raised in a perfected gesture.

Arthur gave her a very serious look, and for a moment Morgana thought that Arthur might actually be thinking about answering the question honestly. Yeah right.

"As if that would happen," he folded his arms behind his head and leant back against the chair, doing his utmost best to display his 'perfectly toned' body "there's not a woman alive that wouldn't want this."

"Oh please," Morgana scoffed, "you're looking at one."

Arthur's gaze flitted from her face to the face of a woman sitting behind her. "Who? Lady Ashwell? Oh no," he shook his head, "I happen to know that…"

"Not her you idiot," Morgana poked him hard in the shoulder, "I meant me."

She had to stifle a laugh as the cocky smirk disappeared, replaced with a look that she supposed was meant to look nonchalant or uncaring, but instead just made Arthur look like he was constipated.

"Oh," he leant forward and studied her for a minute; "you're lying" he concluded and settled back against the chair, looking incredibly self-satisfied.

Morgana's mouth dropped open, "No I'm not, why on earth would I like you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

In Morgana's opinion, Arthur's smirk was the size of the castle itself, and she longed to knock him down a peg or two. _Or ten,_ she thought grumpily.

"Seriously," Arthur slung an arm around Morgana's shoulders, he spread his hands wide "what's not to like?"

"Your ego for one," Morgana replied darkly.

"Hmmph," he said, still smirking, "you know, I…" he trailed off upon noticing the commotion occurring at Merlin's table.

"Doesn't look like he let him down gently," Arthur remarked with a laugh, watching Lancelot's crestfallen face as Merlin stormed dramatically out of the room.

"I'm sure he did," Morgana began doubtfully, "I mean, he wouldn't just…" she trailed off as Lancelot shook himself out of his stunned state and rushed out of the room after Merlin.

Arthur laughed, "so much for your 'sensitivity' Morgana."

She slapped him on the shoulder and then grabbed his arm, "come with me," she attempted to drag him off his chair, "we're following them."

Arthur obeyed, "I wouldn't want to miss this," he said gleefully.

Morgana paused to send a slow-painful-death promising glare his way, and then continued to march towards the door. Arthur grinned at the courtiers staring at them (he was slightly drunk) and gave a small wave as Morgana dragged him out of the room. They hadn't walked very far when they came upon a scene they couldn't have imagined, ever. Lancelot was actually _kissing _Merlin…on the mouth. Or so they thought. Actually it only seemed that way because of the angle at which they were standing in relation to the scene they were supposedly witnessing. In fact, Lancelot and Merlin were still at the eyelashes-on-cheek stage and so, thankfully (on Merlin's part) there was enough time for Arthur to be his usual self and interrupt without actually thinking about what he was doing.

"Bloody hell," he practically yelled, "Lancelot's kissing Merl…I mean, Arthura."

At this point, Merlin had never been happier to see his daily tormentor and sometimes friend. And he had never been more appreciative of Arthur's natural talent at interruption, and metaphorical resemblance of a sledgehammer or some other blunt instrument. As it was, Arthur's loud voice caused Lancelot to jerk back from Merlin and spin around to face Arthur, blushing all the while.

'Ahhh…Arth…Arthur" he stuttered, "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Clearly," Arthur remarked, tactless as always.

Over by the wall, Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and practically collapsed against the ground. _Never again, _he thought vehemently, _never, never, never, never again._  
Lancelot blushed even harder (if that were possible) and looked at the ground for moral support.

"Well I suppose we'd better be off then, eh Morgana?" Arthur grinned wickedly, "and leave these two to their…previous activities."

Merlin stared at him in horror. No, he couldn't be that cruel. Wait, this was Arthur, yes he could. Thankfully, Morgana intervened.

"Sorry to interrupt Arthura, but your father's come to take you home. He says he must leave urgently, within the half hour."

Lancelot's face fell as Merlin's took on a look of sheer relief. Arthur frowned, his fun ruined and stalked off down another corridor, muttering something about fun spoiling women.

"Oh dear," Merlin's voice was incredibly high-pitched, "He's probably mad, isn't he? I'd better go." He started to get up off of the ground, wobbling a bit as he did so, until Lancelot gallantly offered him assistance in the form of a hand.

"Thankyou," Merlin muttered as he reluctantly took Lancelot's hand and was heaved to his feet.

"Umm, so, good bye then," he said awkwardly, staring at the ground, he really couldn't bear to look at Lancelot's face. When he got no immediate answer, he hesitantly raised his eyes. _Oh damn_, he thought. Rather than being the picture of absolute rejection and depression – as Merlin had expected – Lancelot's face actually had a hopeful expression.

"I, I really like you Arthura," he said softly, reaching forward he grabbed Merlin's hand and held it between his two. "And, I was thinking, if you felt the same way, we could, you know, have a long distance relationship?"

In absolute shock Merlin looked pleadingly at Morgana. She took the hint and stepped in.

"I'm sorry Lancelot," she said gently, "but it just wouldn't be possible. Arthura lives very far away, and, well," Morgana paused and then, in a stroke of genius, she knew what had to be done. "She's engaged."

Lancelot's eyes widened and he promptly dropped Merlin's hand.

"What?" He said, shocked, as betrayal wormed its way into his subconscious.

Merlin said nothing; he simply pasted a look of embarrassment on his face and watched the ground, secretly in awe of Morgana's ingenuity.

Morgana offered him a small sorrowful smile, "she doesn't like the guy," she tried to 'reassure' him, "but she's been engaged to him pretty much since she was born."

"Oh," he said softly, "an arranged marriage."

Morgana nodded, "she's been rebelling against it, but the wedding is in a few months and there's nothing she can do."

Merlin finally looked up, "I'm sorry Lancelot," he said, his voice coloured with remorse, "I didn't mean to lead you on, but…well, I really liked you."

"Yeah," Lancelot said slowly, "okay," and turned away from Morgana and Merlin, his shoulders sagging in disappointment.

"I wish there'd been another way to do that," Morgana said softly, "I feel terrible, he really didn't deserve it."

Merlin nodded, "you probably should have just left it alone though," he said thoughtfully (and yet without much thought as to how it would affect Morgana), "it probably would've hurt less then."

Morgana looked at him, tears shimmering in her eyes, "you're right," she said, mouth quivering, "I just made it worse, didn't I."

Merlin said nothing, he was terrified that he would cause her to erupt, and he really didn't know what to do when girls started crying so he simply patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Oh Merlin," she sniffed, and latched onto him in a fierce hug. She buried her head in his shirt, and Merlin could feel the beginnings of a wet patch. She continued to sob for a little while until they were interrupted by a loud, imperious, "is there _anyone _in this castle that you wouldn't make out with Merlin?" as Arthur made his way towards them, conveniently, and perhaps rather dangerously, missing the signs of Morgana's anxiety. She lifted her head from Merlin's shoulder and gave him a blistering glare, at which Arthur quickly did a double-take and reassessed the situation, or actually assessed it for the first time.

"Uh, is everything alright?" he asked eloquently, also at a loss of what to do when girls started crying.

"Does it look like everything's alright?" asked Morgana venomously.

"Umm no?" Arthur said tentatively, a little frightened (although he'd never admit it) at what Morgana could possibly do.

"Then why did you ask?" She was glaring at him now, and if looks could kill, he figured he'd probably be dead, or tortured, or both.

"To, you know, show my concern for your welfare?" He flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"Is that a statement or a question?" She asked suspiciously.

"A statement," he replied cautiously, but to his utter surprise Morgana smiled at him.

"I knew there was a heart in there somewhere," she remarked, "just deep, deep down."

Arthur took a moment to decided whether he should be offended or not, but recognised that this was a rare compliment. He smiled also and then offered to escort her back to her rooms, throwing a "have fun getting out of that dress" at Merlin as they walked away. Merlin grimaced, and when he was sure nobody was looking, ended the enchantment that made him look like Arthura, so that if he bumped into Lancelot, well you know. He didn't want to open that particular can of worms ever again.

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I sort of lost focus on the story for a bit because of school, and the UMAT etc.


	6. Chapter 6

"Arthur?"

_He was running through the forest, bow in hand, quiver rattling on his back as he leapt, dodged and dived over, and around, the various obstacles in his path. He simply would __**not**_ _allow his prey escape._

"Arrrrthur?"

_He moved quickly, eyes fixated on the flash of his quarry as it darted through the trees. He followed it, never losing pace, yet never gaining it. He growled, frustrated as he failed to decrease the distance between himself and what he was so desperately trying to catch. He watched as his quarry suddenly stumbled and seemed to fall to the ground. Grinning in triumph, he raced towards it. When he reached the place where it had fallen he nocked an arrow to his bow, and turned to face his quarry. With a gasp he came face to face with…_

"Arthur?"

"Merlin!" he jerked awake, flinging his hands out in a dramatic, unnecessary movement that very nearly knocked Merlin unconscious. As it was, Merlin had come to expect this kind of reaction, and had neatly side-stepped Arthur's admittedly accidental attack on his person.

"Another dream?"

"Yeah," Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed before remembering that Merlin had woken him up.

"What did you wake me up for anyway?"

"It's time," Merlin said, an unusually serious look on his face.

Arthur just looked confused, "Time for what?"

"You know," Merlin nodded conspicuously and winked, "It's time."

"No Merlin," Arthur growled, "obviously I don't know or I wouldn't bother asking, would I?"

"No, I don't suppose you would." Merlin agreed.

"So?" Arthur asked, annoyance written on his face.

"So what?"

"So what the hell did you wake me up for?" Arthur leapt off his chair and advanced on Merlin,"and don't give me anymore of this 'it's time' crap."

"It's," at Arthur's warning growl Merlin quickly completed the sentence, "time for the truth or dare thing."

Suddenly Arthur's anger morphed into a creepy form of delight, and a wicked smile crept onto his face. Merlin was severely scared; he just _knew _it didn't bode well for anyone.

"Is that so?" Arthur's grin widened, and Merlin swore he looked like the proverbial cat who'd just figured out how to get the canary. "We'd better go then, hadn't we?"

"I guess so," Merlin faltered, a happy Arthur was never a good sign. It usually meant he had developed some form of torture he wanted to try out on Merlin, or enlist Merlin's help to try it out on some other human being. Unfortunately, Arthur was far too creative (sometimes, other times he was remarkably predictable) for his own good, or rather, for the general good of the human race.

"Come on then," Arthur headed out the door, "we don't want to be late."

Merlin sighed, resigned to whatever awaited him, and followed Arthur out the door. As they made their way to the closet near Morgana's rooms, Arthur took the opportunity to berate Merlin about waking him up from the dream he'd been having, conveniently forgetting that he'd asked Merlin to wake him up in time for the truth or dare meeting.

"I was just about to find out what I was hunting when you woke me up." He informed Merlin, just a touch grumpy.

"I'm sure it was some great big huge misunderstood creature that you took it into your head to hunt simply because it _sneezed _near the castle." Merlin muttered mutinously, he had never agreed with Arthur's obsession with hunting. Never, and nor would he ever. Especially after Arthur had killed the Unicorn and brought that massive famine upon Camelot. Seriously, did he ever _learn_? Apparently not. Because not only was he killing monsters in his spare time, he was now _dreaming_ about killing them. And to think, all of magic-kind's hopes rested upon a boy who hunted them as a _hobby_.

"…and I think it's, Merlin, are you even listening?" Arthur looked affronted, as if Merlin had personally slighted him…then again, maybe he had.

"Of course," he said dryly, "what else would I be doing? Picking daisies?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "if you could, I bet you would be."

"…" Merlin raised an eyebrow, "is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Think about it," said Arthur smugly, and opened the door to the closet they were meeting in.

Merlin sighed, exasperated, and followed him in, surprised to see only Gwen sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Where's Morgana?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, she had to attend some dinner with Uther or something," Gwen said smiling, "so it's just us."

Arthur rubbed his hands together with glee, "let's get started."

"All right," Gwen watched Arthur curiously, something was not right.

"The tenth night hour is nigh," she began doubtfully (but still creepily), "and the candle is all but burnt to the stub. Now is the time for the game to begin." She picked up the small book and flipped to the most recent entry. "The last dare was created by Morgana and served by Arthur. It involved attending the morning meal as 'Arthura' a new female courtier." Gwen grinned slightly, she was the only one. Both boys had embarrassing memories about that particular dare, and neither cared to relive them.

"Now the truth-or-dare mantle falls to…Arthur, who must either ask Merlin a question which he must answer truthfully, or dare him to do anything his mind can conceive. Do you accept this responsibility?" She asked gravely.

"I do," Arthur could barely contain his excitement; finally, revenge would be his.

"Very well," Gwen said, "You may begin."

"Merlin," said Arthur, enthusiasm creeping into his voice, "I dare you to…"

"Hey," Merlin interrupted, "you're supposed to ask me whether I want to do truth or dare."

"Well I want you to pick dare," said Arthur, "so I picked it for you."

"That's not the way it works," Merlin protested.

"It is now." Arthur said, grinning smugly, "and I dare you to send love letters to every male and female occupant of the palace, including Uther, from Morgana."

There was silence in the closet before Merlin's jaw dropped.

"You want me to do what?"

"You heard me," Arthur replied smugly, man he was enjoying this, and it had only just begun.

"Arthur," Gwen admonished, "the dare is supposed to embarrass _Merlin_, not Morgana."

"So what?" he shrugged, "no doubt this will embarrass Merlin anyway, he's a bit of a prude you know."

"What?" Merlin spluttered, "I am not!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "prove it."

"Fine the, I'll..." he began

"Hey," Gwen interrupted, "only one dare per meeting. So Merlin, do you accept the dare Arthur has given you?"

"I guess," he sighed.

"Very well," Gwen said, "I declare this meeting over."

"And neither of you can tell Morgana," Arthur warned.

Merlin sighed, why exactly had he wanted to be a part of this again?

"Come on Merlin," Arthur grinned wickedly, "better start on those letters." He then ushered Merlin back up to his rooms, gave him a list of names of the occupants of the castle and then left him to suffer through the night on his own.

"Great," Merlin muttered, "just flipping fantastic." He groaned, "What does one right in a love letter anyway?"

"Besides the obvious?"

Merlin nearly leapt out of his skin, and definitely leapt off his chair, as Arthur's voice sounded close behind him. Really close, in fact, so close that Merlin had felt his breath on his neck.

"Gah," he yelled, almost falling over as he scrambled to gain his footing after his rather impressive leap. "Why'd you have to sneak up on me like that?"

Arthur laughed, "Because it's so much fun."

Merlin scowled at Arthur to let him know that he didn't appreciate the gesture, not that it would change anything.

Arthur simply laughed again and left for the second time, and hopefully for good. After he had watched Arthur get into bed, he had to be absolutely sure he wasn't going to sneak up on him again; Merlin turned his attention to the letters he had to write. With an elongated sigh he put pen to paper and began to attempt his first love letter.

_Dear Lord Earlswood_

_I really don't know how to day this any other way, but I love you. _

'Maybe a bit too sudden' he thought.

_Dear Lord Earlswood,_

_I have watched you from my window for months now, and I…_

'Sounds like she's a stalker'

_Jimmy,_

_I love you._

_Morgana_

Merlin laughed at his last attempt, 'short and sweet' he thought.

"That's just pathetic."

Again Merlin parted with his chair in one hasty movement that sent him sprawling at the feet of a chuckling Arthur.

"Really Merlin," he mock admonished him, "you ought to be more aware of your surroundings."

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Merlin grumbled from his position on the floor.

"And miss this?" Arthur shook his head, "not for all the money in the world."

Merlin grumbled again and hoisted himself off of the floor, glaring at Arthur as he did so. Ten minutes later Merlin had completed a grand total of three love letters and was currently boring holes in the paper in front of him. Really, he simply couldn't concentrate with Arthur there, laughing at his every attempt, and just generally ridiculing him for practically everything.

"Well you write one then!" He snapped and thrust the pen at Arthur, folding his arms over his chest he leant back on the chair.

"Fine I will then," Arthur shrugged, "but only one, this is your dare remember."

_My dearest Lady Ashwell,_

_It has come to my attention that I just cannot think coherently whenever I find my self in your heavenly presence. Your eyes captivate me with their luminance, and I am drawn to you like a moth to light. Your…_

"Drawn to you like a moth to light?" Merlin mocked and then laughed, "Wow Arthur, I never knew you could write…poetry."

Arthur nodded smugly, "good isn't it?"

Merlin stifled a giggle, "whatever you say."

"Indeed." Arthur said, with absolutely no idea that he had in fact been insulted. It simply hadn't crossed his mind. After all, he'd been taking lessons in poetry lately, and he knew he was as good at it as he was everything he tried.

"Well," Arthur poked Merlin in the shoulder with the pen, "you better get back to work, you have to write and 'post' all those letters by morning.

Merlin groaned, "Couldn't you just write them with your superior poetry skills?"

"Nope," Arthur for once, ignored the flattery, as false as it was, he was having way too much fun watching Merlin struggle. Merlin sighed and began to write again. By the end of the evening he swore to himself that he would never write another love letter again. And the worst part was that he couldn't use magic because Arthur was watching him. Which privately, he thought was weird. Seriously, who'd want to stay awake all night and watch his servant pen love letters to everyone in the castle? It was obviously out of some perverse desire to witness every second of Merlin's humiliation. And it was humiliating, even though no one save Arthur was watching. Merlin cringed every time Arthur made some crude comment and blushed, which to his annoyance; Arthur had no reserves in teasing him about.

"You really are a prude," Arthur remarked with the air of one announcing something remarkably profound, "imagine blushing whenever someone says the word _sex_."

He laughed again as Merlin turned bright red and sank a little deeper into the chair.

"Well I'm sorry I haven't as many _conquests _as you do!" He said defensively.

"Not as many conquests?" Arthur smirked, "you haven't any!"

"How would you know?" Merlin shot back, anger on his normally placid, easy-going features.

"I uh, well I guess I don't." Arthur admitted.

"Exactly," Merlin crossed his arms, "so don't assume you do."

Arthur was quiet for a second, "have you?"

"Have I what?" Merlin asked then realized, "oh, well, no I haven't. But that doesn't mean you should assume that I haven't"

"So you _are _a prude?"

Merlin sighed, he would never win.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Again, sorry for the eons that have passed since the last chapter I wrote. I really have no real excuse, a few lame ones like grade 12 and graduating and all and deciding my future, but nothing big. This chapter is a little more…intense than usual but hopefully still just as amusing. Although if you laugh during the intense bit than either you're a little bit heartless, or I fail as an intense/serious writer. Which is ok, I'd rather be funny anyway.

* * *

"Morgana?" A confused query.

"_Morgana?"_ A shocked gasp.

"Mor…gana?" Bewildered disbelief.

"Morgana!" Love-struck awe.

"_Morgana…" _A soft, delicate sigh.

"Morgana?!" Annoyance.

"M..or…g..ana…" Raucous laughter.

"MORGANA?!!" Pure, unadulterated shock. Swiftly cumulating anger.

Morgana was, for all intents and purposes, absolutely stumped. And to be perfectly clear, this did _not_ happen often. In fact, she would later claim that it never happened at all. Wrote love letters to all the occupants of the castle? Why of course she did, it was all part of her master plan. But for the time being, she was summarily unenlightened and unequivocally stumped. What the _hell _had Arthur done? And of course she knew instinctively that it was Arthur. Who else was holding a grudge against her for no apparent reason? Ok, well maybe he had a reason. And maybe it was apparent. But still, grudges were so _juvenile_. Oh right, this was _Arthur_. The two were practically interchangeable. Put one in the others place and no one would know the difference.

Catching herself, she leapt off the endless train ride of 'Arthur's faults' and focused again on her current predicament. Which was Arthur's fault because Arthur was such a…no, she needed to focus.

A gentle hand landing on her shoulder and the softly whispered "Morgana…" caused her leap three feet in the air and spin around to face her 'attacker'.

"What the…Lord Earlswood?" She questioned, surprised, and slightly creeped out at the almost _tender _expression on his usually stony, formidable, face.

"Morgana." He replied, bowing his head slightly.

Morgana fought back the sudden impulse to shudder at the way his voice seemed to, to, _caress _her name. As a sudden spark of pure lust trickled through his gaze, she was unable to suppress the disgusted shudder it provoked. He was _old_. Lord Earlswood, however, seemed to take this as an expression of interest. His eyes glinted eerily in the light as a lewd smile wormed its way across his face.

"Morgana," he said again, tongue almost flicking out as if to _taste_ her name upon the air. "I was amazed and, I admit, somewhat surprised, this morning when I found your letter under the door."

"My letter?" Confusion flickered across her face. _What letter? What had Arthur done?_

"You know," he smirked and leaned in closer, "the one where you confessed your love for me?"

"My…WHAT?!" She half-shrieked, but due to her 'courtly manners', managed to turn it into s very fervent exclamation of…surprise.

"Jimmy," Lord Earlswood quoted, "I love you. Morgana."

At that she almost laughed. Wow. Arthur's poetry lessons had really paid off.

"Lord Earlswood," she said calmly, "I didn't write that…"

"Sssh," he placed a finger upon her lips, "it's ok. I know it must have been hard to admit it. But you have. So let's skip the 'I am a fair maiden, I have virtue and you have to chase me' crap."

Morgana practically shoved his hand away (as politely as possible) and stepped back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she took a few more steps and panicked as her back hit a wall.

"Oh come now child," he admonished, "don't tell me you're playing with an old man's heart?"

"I'm not, I didn't…look," she injected some aggression into her voice, "I. do. Not. Know. What. You. Are. Talking. About," she paused after each word for maximum impact. "So if you don't mind, I'm going to leave." As she began to move, she suddenly realized what a precarious situation she was in. She was backed up against a wall, Lord Earlswood was only three feet away, and he was eerily reminiscent of a hungry wolf staring down its prey. Morgana's eyes widened considerably and flickered around the room, searching desperately for an escape of some kind. None was forthcoming. Lord Earlswood moved closer and Morgana stifled a gasp. No need to lead him on, he seemed to be getting some kind of perverse enjoyment from her discomfort. Suddenly, she had an idea. What if she _did _lead him on? He'd lower his guard and then when he was distracted she could escape. But how to do it? Mentally forcing herself to cease trying to become one with the wall, she batted her eyelashes in the way she knew was teasingly flirtatious and angled her head down, flicking her eyes up to observe Earlswood's face. He looked ravenous. Gulping at the thought of being his proverbial juicy steak she shuffled forward a tad and peered at him again. "Ah," Lord Earlswood grinned, "so you were playing. Naughty, naughty," he waved his finger in the air. As he bent closer she took the presented opportunity, kneed him viciously in the groin and attempt to sprint away. She cursed as her dress impeded her movement and shrieked as Lord Earlswood grabbed her wrist from behind. She slapped his hand repeatedly as she tried to get away, but it was to no avail. The grip he had on her wrist was firm and bruising. He tugged forcefully and she fell to the ground. Just when she thought all was lost she heard the very familiar, and usually irritating, sounds of Arthur's talking. Hope flared within her and she screeched his name while Lord Earlswood cursed and tried to shut her up. Luckily for her, and perhaps not so luckily for Earlswood, Arthur's hearing was almost ninja-like on that fateful day. Hearing her panicked voice, Arthur abandoned all pratish qualities and became the 'person people prayed he would eventually completely morph into, instead of about zero-point-one percent of the time'. In any case, he was this person now. He raced into the room and quickly appraised the situation. Seeing Arthur, Lord Earlswood cursed and released Morgana immediately, before turning and fleeing in the opposite direction. Arthur momentarily paused, unsure whether to chase him or see to Morgana. Given his propensity for hunting and chasing, he was somewhat surprised when he turned around and headed towards Morgana, reasoning as he did so, that Lord Earlwood would not get far.

"Are you alright?" he questioned, concern colouring his voice.

Morgana didn't answer. Instead she ignored his proffered hand and stiffly got to her feet. When she turned to face him he was shocked at the level of intensity of her gaze. Before he had time to even finish thinking that thought, she lifted her hand and smacked him across the face. Fighting the urge to rub his cheek, and refusing to acknowledge how much it hurt, Arthur actually had the audacity to look shocked. Morgana slapped him again.

"How dare you," she began shakily, "How. Dare. You."

Oh. Realization dawned on Arthur. It was the letters.

"Oh," he said intelligently, "Morgana, I…"

"You what?" she demanded venomously, "you thought it would be _funny_ to write a love letter to a perverted old man?"

"I, well…" Arthur trailed off, "technically I didn't write them. It was Merlin."

At Morgana's raised eyebrow and twitching hand he quickly changed tack, "okay so it was my idea but it, it…it wasn't just him you know. We wrote letters to everyone in the castle." At Morgana's shocked and dangerous look Arthur realized that he'd just dug himself an even bigger hole. Oops.

"Ah, what I mean to say…" he back-pedalled, "is that I'll tell everyone it was a joke and that you didn't write them."

When she didn't look satisfied he added, "and I'll take full credit since it was my dare. Okay?"

Morgana nodded stiffly and then turned around and stalked out of the room.

Behind her Arthur rubbed his cheek sheepishly. Man, but she could slap.

* * *

Arthur fidgeted. Urther glared at him. Arthur looked away. Morgana glared at him. Arthur looked down. The floor seemed to be glaring at him. Or maybe it was just a residual feeling from the fact that he could sense Morgana's eyes boring holes into his head. Not to mention Uther's. Arthur began to raise his hand to call Merlin over and then hesitated; Merlin was glaring at him. Come to think of it, a _lot _of people were glaring at him. He suddenly felt defensive. What was it, glare at the crown prince day? And how did they all know anyway? He had yet to make the public announcement. Not about 'glare at the crown prince day', about the letter thing. Now that he thought about it though, they need more crown prince centred days…maybe not a 'glare at the crown prince' day, but something like a…'worship the crown prince' day. Yeah, that sounded good. He suddenly felt like someone was very intensely trying to burn his intestines with their eyes. It was Morgana; of course, she seemed to realize his thoughts were happily gallivanting off into the lovingly cultivated 'crown prince' field of daisies. Jerked back into reality, he realized that all eyes were on him. His heart skipped a beat. Not that he was afraid of public speaking, the opposite actually. He _loved _public speaking. There was just something about having all the attention focused upon him, all those people staring at him with adoration, hanging off of his every word…or in some cases, he admitted grudgingly, looking like they wanted to rip his entrails out with their bare hands. He liked to think that those particularly disturbed individuals were the minority. Not today however. He honestly couldn't find a single face that _didn't_ seem to be broadcasting that very same wish. He briefly wondered why. Okay, so he'd dared Merlin to write love letters from Morgana to every single one of them, but still, couldn't they take a joke? Besides, they were only love letters. Not a big deal. He himself received many a day. And okay, maybe one of them caused Morgana to be very nearly molested by a perverted old man, but it hadn't happened. He'd saved her in fact. She should be grateful. Any besides, no one besides himself and Morgana knew of that fact, and maybe Gwen, and possibly Merlin. He was pretty sure, however, that no one else knew. So why _were _they all glaring at him? Surely they didn't take the letters seriously…hang on; they didn't even really know the letters were fake yet. He still hadn't told them, so how did they…?

He stopped mid-thought as Uther cleared his throat and looked pointedly at him. Oh right, he was supposed to be apologizing. Never mind the fact that this very apology broke one of the sacred 'truth and dare' rules: don't let outsiders in on the game. Still, he _had _promised Morgana, if only to prevent her from very literally carving his organs out with the nearest sharp implement. Or the nearest blunt one. He momentarily considered just how painful that would be.

Uther cleared his throat again.

Oh, right. Organ-protection time.  
"Father," he began respectfully, "lords and ladies, I stand here tonight with an apology I wish to impart along with my deepest regrets."

Some of the crowd began to look impressed with his sincerity and a little less like they desired his innards for supper. A few of their mouths dropped open in shock. Wait. Arthur had a _brain_?!

"It was I who wrote and delivered the love letters, not Morgana."

There was very little surprise amongst the crowd. Arthur paused briefly to ponder how gossip seemed to spread like a famine and then winced; he definitely didn't need a reminder about famine.

"I wish to express my shame and regret at my actions, and hope that you will judge me appropriately and find it permissible to forgive me."

Morgana inwardly sighed at his words. Of course they would forgive him. Heck, _she _would forgive him. He was just too damn charming, especially when he spoke like that. And Arthur was nothing if not a convincing actor. At least he hadn't shifted any of the blame onto Merlin.

Arthur bowed his head slightly and spread his palms wide, "I leave my punishment in your capable hands. May you judge justly and accord me no privilege."

Morgana could've sworn she saw several people _swoon_. Damn, he was _good_.

"Thank you Arthur," Uther stepped in and addressed them, "what is your decision?"

"Let him off," someone suggested, "he won't do it again."

"Yeah, he's learnt his lesson."

The crowd murmured their agreement and Uther acquiesced, "very well. Arthur will receive no punishment. Now all, please, return to the feast." He moved back to his seat near Arthur and gave him a disgruntled look. He then glanced apologetically at Morgana who shrugged. She honestly hadn't expected Arthur to be punished; she just wanted her name cleared. Besides, she would have her _own revenge_.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Ok, so I know I've been somewhat slack in regards to this story (actually in regards to _all _my stories) but what can I say? Uni? Work? All of the above? In any case, this particular chapter is dedicated to 'UnKnowning10' who kindly reminded me that I need to pull my socks up and write (but nicely ) So here's a chapter (albeit a short one) for you all to enjoy…

* * *

"_Mer_lin."

Oh for the love of Camelot, not _again_.

"_Mer_lin!"

Nope. Nu uh. There was _no _way Merlin was opening his eyes. No chance.

"_Mer_lin…"

Poke.

"Ow!" Merlin momentarily forgot his resolve and opened his eyes, "what was that for?"

He realised.

"Ahhh!" He screeched and covered his eyes in attempt to block out the…normalcy?

Arthur gave him a long, considering look, extended a finger and…poke.

"Oy!" Merlin slapped his hand away, "stop it!"

"Only when you begin acting like a human being," Arthur informed him snidely and then reconsidered, "not that you ever actually _do_."

Merlin glared at him, "I was concerned about the mental scarring that might occur if I opened my eyes."

"There's something left to scar?" Arthur leapt nimbly to the side as Merlin swiped at him.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Merlin asked pointedly, "somewhere other than here?"

"Nope," Arthur leant against the wall.

"Well isn't that flipping fantastic…" Merlin muttered as he continued to tidy up Arthur's incredibly messy bedroom. Honestly, would it kill the guy to clean up after himself once in awhile? He glanced at Arthur who was busy examining his nails, yep probably.

"So," Arthur moved away from the wall and flopped down in his chair, legs outstretched and resting _on the spot Merlin was currently cleaning_. Which, if you put two and two together, meant on top of Merlin who was cleaning the floor.

Merlin briefly considered dumping a bucket of water over Arthur's pompous, self-centred head…was it worth a trip to the stocks? Arthur started kicking off his shoes. Yes, yes it most definitely was. Merlin grinned evilly and pushed Arthur's legs off his back before getting up and grabbing the bucket of water he was using to clean the floor. Arthur caught sight of his expression and blanched.

"Merlin," he asked worriedly, "what are you doing with that…" Gasp. Arthur stood, dripping wet, and staring murderously at Merlin in incredulous fury. His righteous anger was somewhat spoiled however by the bucket hanging over his head. Merlin took the opportunity to run.

"_Mer_lin!!" Arthur roared and tore off the bucket, skidded slightly on the wet stones, grabbed his favourite training bow (the one that didn't actually kill things but caused a fair bit of pain) and commenced the hunt.

Merlin, even in the face of his imminent death, couldn't control his laughter at the picture of Arthur dripping wet with a bucket over his head that was dancing around in his mind. He raced around a corner and promptly tripped over his own feet, landing unceremoniously at the feet of Morgana and laughing so hard he was crying.

Morgana was, needless to say, a little disturbed. The disturbance however quickly morphed into shock as Arthur barrelled around the corner, tripped over Merlin and crashed into her sending them both tumbling to the ground. His bow, thankfully, retained its momentum and careened into a distant wall rather than sticking around to stab someone in the eye.

"Get off me you big lump," she yelled and shoved Arthur, who didn't know quite what to think at the moment, off of her and onto Merlin, who was still laughing uncontrollably, and had developed a slightly hysterical edge to said laughter as he was now realizing that the end was probably nigh. She stood up and looked at her now slightly damp dress in disgust.

"Can't you get through a single day without embarrassing me in some way?" She glanced at the amused faces of passer-bys and cursed him.

Arthur, who was dripping puddles onto both Merlin and the floor, struggled to get up, slipped, and fell back onto Merlin – effectively halting his laughter.

"Can't….breathe," Merlin gasped, "get…off…me!"

Arthur reviewed the situation and decided he liked it. This way, at least, he could pretend it was an accident. Merlin's death obviously, not lying on top of him.

Morgana grabbed Arthur by the arm and dragged him off of Merlin, "what are you trying to do you big elephant?" she berated him, "kill him?"

"I am _not _an elephant," Arthur sniffed, "and yes, in fact, I was."

"Why!?"

Merlin coughed and spluttered helpfully.

"He wet me."

"Oh you poor darling," she spat sarcastically, "did it hurt your _puny, underdeveloped feelings?_"

Arthur wisely decided to shut up, she was very clearly still angry.

Merlin finished coughing and spluttering and shot a triumphant look at Arthur.

"And don't even get me _started _on you!" Morgana rounded on Merlin.

Arthur laughed at the innocent 'who me?' plastered on Merlin's face.

Morgana glared at him again, reached down and grabbed his bow and pelted it at him. Arthur yelped (in a very manly, princely way) and ducked. The bow clattered against the wall and rebounded to whack him in the back of the head.

"Ow," he rubbed the back of his head and did his best to look unfairly picked upon, "what was that for?"

"Breathing," Morgana retorted before stalking off.

"Well…what got _her _knickers in a knot?"

Merlin glared at him, "gee, I wonder."

"So do I," Arthur admitted, completely missing the sarcasm.

"…it's a _real mystery_."

"Mmmhmm," Arthur mused.

Merlin dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, what was _his _problem? He glanced at the candle burning placidly on the bench and shuddered…it was 9.30. Which meant that in exactly half-an-hour he would run into Morgana again…he gulped. Maybe he could miss this one? Yep, that sounded like a good idea. A really good idea. But then, he dreaded what Morgana might do if he _wasn't _there. Dammit he'd just have to go. At least Merlin would be there to 'share in the wrath'. He'd make sure of it.

* * *

"The tenth night-hour is nigh, and the candle is all but burnt to the stub. Now is the time, for the game to begin." Gwen intoned in her special creepy voice.

Merlin shivered, somehow, without fail, Gwen's creepy voice _always _sent shivers down his spine.

Arthur grimaced as he caught Morgana glaring at him yet _again_. What was with girls and their grudges?

"The last dare was created by Arthur and served by Merlin," Gwen winced at the particularly heated glares, "it involved writing love letters to everyone in the palace from Morgana," she glanced nervously around the room, "now the truth or dare mantel falls to Merlin who must either ask myself a question I must answer truthfully, or dare me to do anything his mind can conceive…wow, that sounded strange." She laughed nervously in an attempt to dispel the tension…it failed.

"Um ok," Merlin scratched his head, "er, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Gwen answered quickly, she trusted Merlin not to dare her anything ridiculous but just in case.

"Oh umm," Merlin looked around the room for inspiration, none was forthcoming.

"Ah, well, er," he brightened, "what's your deepest darkest secret?"

There was silence until Arthur laughed, "seriously Merlin? What's your deepest darkest secret," he mocked, "what are you twelve?"

"No," he defended, "I just…well what would you ask?"

Arthur grinned mischievously, "Who's your current _love _interest?"

"Oh, that's not bad." Merlin admitted, "But doesn't everyone ask that?"

"Never gets old," Arthur grinned, "now come on then Gwen, out with it. Who do you fancy?"

Gwen blanched, "I…I don't have to answer that, Merlin's the one who's 'truthing' me."

"Oh," Merlin shrugged, "ok, I change mine to that."

Morgana shot Gwen a concerned look.

"Well I pick dare then."

"Why?" Arthur gasped, "oh I get it, you like someone in this room, don't you?"

Gwen blushed, "umm, well…" she trailed off.

"You do!" Arthur announced triumphantly, "well who is it? It's me isn't it?"

"My, my Arthur," Morgana put in scathingly, "your ego truly knows no bounds, does it?"

"I'm just, incredibly self-aware," he smirked, "nothing wrong with a little self-confidence."

"Well it's not you," Morgana retorted irritably and then slapped her hands over her mouth, "oh Gwen I'm sorry."

Gwen blushed a deep scarlet, leapt up and fled the room.

Arthur laughed, "Gwen likes _Merlin,_" he crowed and slapped him on the back.

Merlin just stared open-mouthed at the door; he really hadn't seen that one coming.

"Oh shut up you stupid prick," Morgana yelled and ran out after Gwen.

"…" Merlin suddenly looked panicked, "what am I going to do?" This was going to bring him all kinds of problems, he just knew it. Especially since he didn't actually like Gwen in that way…at all. She was like his sister for goodness sakes. _Awkward_.

Arthur stopped laughing; it hadn't occurred to him that Merlin might actually like her back. "I don't know," he said irritably, "write her a letter or something."

"Write her a letter?" Merlin asked him incredulously. _Wow, cruel and insensitive much?_

"Yeah, tell her how you feel and all that crap." Arthur waved a hand to illustrate his point.

"Isn't that a little…I don't know, impersonal?" _Cruel? Heartless?_

"Okay then," Arthur snapped, "tell her face to face. I don't actually care!" He leapt to his feet and stormed off.

Merlin took a moment to ponder Arthur's mild overreaction to his rejection of his advice before returning to the major problem at hand. How the hell did he tell Gwen that he had absolutely no romantic interest in her at all without hurting her feelings and causing irrevocable damage to their friendship?


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay, so I've been slack again…I must say, though, that this is not unusual for me and many a story has been abandoned by the wayside. I am, however, somewhat determined to finish this story (and it would be the first one), especially since I have 'unknowning10' very kindly reminding me to pull my socks up. So fear not, I will get this story finished...eventually…maybe…just kidding, I WILL finish it.

Maybe.

Oh, and on a side note, I just realised that I'd hit (and gone slightly over) 100 reviews! So thank you, all of you, so, so, much for taking the time to tell me what you think and boost my confidence in my writing. It really means a lot to any writer to have their work reviewed whether it's positive and glowing, or constructive criticism. So again, thank you, all of you who have. Also, thanks to those who've favourited and alerted this story (which should be most, if not all, of you!) and a special thanks to those who favourited or alerted me! (Which probably feels pointless since I don't write very often but thanks nonetheless!) Okay, on with the story.

Oh, and for those of you who are interested (and you _all _are) there's like one chapter (this one) left until _the _scene occurs…or perhaps it happens in this chapter…I'm not sure since I'm writing this first so…on with the story.

…...

Merlin was in trouble. Merlin was in serious trouble. And not the kind of trouble that fades away if you studiously ignore it. Nope, and it was definitely not the kind of trouble that gives up chasing you if you run. In fact, it was exactly the kind of trouble that stuck around until you faced it, and sometimes (actually most of the time) followed you around until your dying day. Which, admittedly, occasionally very curiously corresponded with said trouble…coincidence? Merlin thought not. Gwen liked him. _Gwen _liked him. Gwen _liked_ him. Gwen liked _him_. There, he'd phrased it in as many ways as he possibly could and none of them sounded any better, any less troublesome, nor any more likely to fade away than the others. Dammit, he'd have to actually face it.

It had been exactly ten hours and forty-five minutes since Gwen had fled from the room, having unwittingly admitted that she liked him. Ten hours and forty-five minutes that had felt like an eternity. Several, in fact. He had tried ignoring it; that had worked for exactly seven minutes (he'd run into Gwen on his way back to his rooms and frozen, taken in the miserable look on her face, and then fled) and he realised that he just couldn't do it. Girls were so hard to ignore. They looked miserable, they cried, and they made you feel so bad for _making_ them cry even though you technically hadn't. It wasn't his fault she liked him, was it? And it also wasn't his fault that he didn't feel the same way about her, or any girl for that matter. Not that he felt that way for any guys…of course not, that was ridiculous…_and _totally off the topic.

So then he'd tried avoiding her totally and completely and very, very, inconspicuously of course. This particular tactic had lasted around one hour. Let's just say, even avoiding the object of the trouble didn't mean that said object of trouble's best friend wouldn't give you _exactly _the same looks every time she passed you in the hallway. He felt like he'd broken two hearts instead of one. Except that he hadn't even _told _Gwen he didn't like her yet. So why was she crying? Maybe she already knew? And if that was the case, then did he really have to talk to her? Couldn't he just, you know, pretend it never happened? Somehow he doubted it, and no matter how horrible and frightening the thought happened to be, he'd just have to talk to her. But what did he say? _I'm sorry Gwen but I just don't like you_ felt a little mean and somewhat insincere. Also a little bit ambiguous. He did, in fact, like Gwen, he just didn't _like _like her. He also didn't want to give her false hope, so something like _I don't like you at the moment, _or, _maybe I might feel the same way sometime down the track_, even though they might provide temporary comfort was definitely out of the equation with a capital D. He did _not _need something like that coming back to bite him in the ass two months later. So what to say?

"I hate this!" Merlin proclaimed to nobody in particular.

"Hate what?" Came a voice from behind him.

"Gah!" Merlin almost fell out of the window he was perched on in his surprise, saved only by Arthur's quick reflexes.

"_Must _you do that?" Merlin gasped, clutching the hand Arthur had used to stop his descent, and still trying to get over the shock of nearly plummeting to his death.

"Yep," Arthur grinned, "it's funny."

"Would you have laughed if I'd actually fallen out of the window?" Merlin griped, still holding onto the hand as if he were hanging out of the window.

Arthur considered for a second, then, "yep."

"Heartless bastard," Merlin muttered, taking great care to pitch his voice loud enough that Arthur could hear him.

"Why thank you," Arthur smirked, "so what is it you hate so much you'd jump out of a window to avoid it?"

Merlin scowled, "I didn't jump out of the window, you…surprised me out of it."

"Well I wouldn't need to if you actually paid attention to your surroundings for once."

"I was lost in thought," Merlin defended.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and, in a rare moment of sincerity asked "about?"

"This whole thing with Gwen," Merlin sighed and looked out the window, missing the way Arthur's eyes darkened.

"I mean," Merlin continued, "how on _earth _do you tell a girl you don't like her without totally and completely losing her friendship?"

"I don't have those problems," Arthur shrugged and then, "wait, what? Why are you telling her you don't like her?"

"Umm, because I don't like her?" Merlin gave him the 'duh' look.

"Oh," Arthur said slowly, "I see."

"Why, what'd you think? That I liked her?" Merlin shuddered, "eww, that's just…wrong, she's like my _sister_."

"Well how am I supposed to…?" Arthur was interrupted by a loud cough from behind him.

"And what," Morgana raised an elegant eyebrow, "is the meaning of this?"

Both boys looked at her in utter confusion.

"The meaning of what?" Merlin asked at the same time as Arthur's "what _are _you on about?"

Morgana looked pointedly at Merlin's hand which was currently clutching Arthur's. The boys followed her gaze and then practically leapt apart (Merlin again almost falling out of the window) at the realization that they were holding hands.

"Arthur just, er," Merlin spluttered.

"…Saved him from falling, is all," Arthur put in helpfully.

"Uh _huh_," Morgana drawled, totally unconvinced, "whatever helps you sleep at night." She turned her attention solely to Merlin, "you should talk to Gwen," she said softly.

"I know," Merlin fidgeted and scuffed his foot along the ground, "I just, don't really know what to say."

"Oh for the love of," Arthur groaned, "just tell her you don't like her, never will, and to get the hell over you and move on!"

"And the sledgehammer returns," Morgana snapped, "what a surprise, you wouldn't recognise sensitivity if it stabbed you with a sword."

"Well," Arthur sniffed, "that's because it couldn't possibly get anywhere near me with a sword, and if it tried I'd poke it so full of holes it…"

"Oh just go _away_," Morgana's eyes flashed dangerously and Arthur wisely decided not to point out that he had been there first.

"Sheesh," he said instead, and then threw his arms out as if to say 'who can argue with a crazy person?' and left.

She turned back to Merlin and fixed him with a stern gaze.

"Tell her how you really feel, and that you don't want it to change anything between you."

"Will that really work?" Merlin asked quietly.

"In the long run," Morgana smiled gently, "she might be hurt for awhile, but she'll realise that you do care for her, just not in that way."

"I hope so," Merlin smiled bitterly, "I really don't want to lose her friendship, you know she was the first friend I made here? And she's always stood by me and been there for me, and to think she's felt this way for who knows how long, and damn, I must have been so _oblivious _not to see it."

"You're a guy," Morgana joked, "it's expected."

Merlin laughed half-heartedly, "where is she now?"

"Out in the gardens, I think, she told me she needed some fresh air." She smiled encouragingly.

As Merlin trudged slowly away from the window, Morgana fixed a knowing eye upon his unsuspecting back. There was something going on between those two, she'd bet the castle on it. And if there was, and she _knew _there was, she was getting to the bottom of it. And if they refused to admit it, well, she'd just have to make them see it. And they would, because it was _there_. Oh how it was there.

…...

Merlin took a deep breath and sighed. There she was, sitting all alone under the shade of tall, blossoming, tree. He hoped to all that was holy she wasn't crying. He couldn't handle crying. She looked up as he approached and he saw a sad smile on her face however, mercifully, her eyes were dry.

"Hey Gwen," he sat down next to her and gazed out over the palace grounds.

"Hey," she replied quietly.

He panicked and struggled to think of a benign topic, "Nice day, huh?"

Gwen looked at him, eyes strangely empty of their usual flair, "sure," she said noncommittally.

He sighed, "I'm sorry," he looked away, unable to face her.

"I know," she said softly, "I know."

He looked up, startled, "you do?"

"Of course," she smiled somewhat bitterly, "even though you have nothing to be sorry for. I can't help how I feel, and you can't help that you don't…at least, not for me anyway." She finished cryptically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Merlin asked curiously.

"Nothing," Gwen smiled then, "so we're cool, okay?"

"Really?" Merlin hadn't dared hope it would be this easy.

"Of course," she smiled again, albeit somewhat sadly, "you're my best friend, we'll _always _be cool."

"Oh awesome,' he smiled in relief, "because you know you're like family, right?"

"Right," Gwen affirmed, though her heart wasn't really in it. It was just a little too soon to remember that he'd only ever thought of her as his sister.

"So how about lunch," Merlin offered as he stood up, "I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Oh, umm, sure," sure she said and accepted the proffered hand, gracefully rising to her feet.

He smiled brightly at her, glad that they'd sorted the whole thing out with no bad feelings on either side.

"Let's be off then shall we?" He imitated Arthur and stuck out an arm for Gwen to hold in the courtly fashion, "don't want to keep the peasants waiting."

Laughing, they made their way back up to the castle.

…

"You want me to do _WHAT_?'

It was two days later and Merlin was seriously reconsidering the whole no bad feelings on either side thing. Because if this was 'no bad feelings' then he sure as _hell _did _not _want to see what a girl _with_ bad feelings acted like. In retrospect, he probably should have expected _something _when Gwen had announced they were changing the rules of the game on the day it was _his _turn to be dared (or truthed). Apparently, once you picked truth or dare you had to stick with it no matter what. She'd then amended that you could appeal for a new dare if someone else decided it was unfair. Again, the fact that this was happening on _his turn _and on a night when _Arthur wasn't present_, should really have tipped him off. But of course, as usual, he was completely oblivious. And dear lord, he was regretting it.

Gwen giggled, rather evilly in Merlin's opinion, and lent forward conspiratorially before whispering in his ear. "I dare you to profess your undying love and then kiss Arthur."

To say he was totally, completely, hit-with-a-lightning-bolt shocked would be an understatement. His mouth dropped open in astonishment even as he blushed profusely. Damn his pale skin.

"You have _got _to be joking," he gulped, "you _are _joking, right?"

Both girls giggled and Merlin's heart sunk. No way, they couldn't honestly be that cruel…?

"Well I…I pick truth then," he said desperately.

"You can't," Gwen said, evil smirk in place, "not unless someone else in this room thinks the dare's unfair. I obviously don't, since it's my dare…do you Morgana?"

Merlin looked desperately at Morgana and begged her with his eyes to say yes.

"Nope," her eyes danced wickedly, "I think it's perfectly fair."

"You can't seriously," he tried, somewhat incoherent, "really? Honestly? You just…no, come on! How is that fair? He's…well, a _guy_."

"I _had _noticed," Morgana laughed, "had you Gwen?"

"Yep," Gwen smirked, "I noticed."

"Why?" Merlin affected his best 'kicked puppy' look, "do you want me thrown out of the castle?"

"Oh I don't think he'll throw you out of the castle…" Morgana said mysteriously, "I don't think he'll do anything like that."

"…in the stocks for a month," Merlin moaned, "no food, water, daily torture…used as a hunting target…"

"Oh stop it," Gwen whacked him on the shoulder, "and you know why."

Merlin paused in his self-pitying diatribe to stare incredulously at her.

"No, actually," he griped, "I haven't the slightest clue."

"Mmmmmhmmm."

"Please don't make me do this?"

"Sorry," she said, completely unapologetic, "you have till the next meeting which is in oh….two days."

"And it has to be on the lips," Morgana put in, "not on the hand or something."

"And you can't tell Arthur it was a dare," Gwen told him, "until after."

Yep, Merlin was sincerely regretting his inability to recognise approaching danger. He now had to kiss Arthur, somewhere within two days, and although the possibility was, admittedly, strangely alluring (though he would never, ever, admit that) he was convinced it would mean his doom. For surely, Arthur would string him up and use him as an archery or jousting target for even _thinking _about kissing him, let alone actually doing it. He was, very notoriously, a ladies man and so very clearly not homosexual in any way, shape, or form…and neither was Merlin.

…

Okay so maybe he was a _tad_, but only a tad.

Or okay, a _little bit _more than a tad.

Oh crap.

A/N2: Sorry but I just _had _to leave it here. I know I'm evil, but I will try to update as soon as possible so you're not all hanging on the edges of your seats for an indefinite period…and of course, you _are _hanging on the edges of your seats? Right? And you might possibly review? Maybe? Reviews keep me going and remind me that this story exists…just saying. And please, please, if you have advice on how I can improve my writing, let me have it. I feel like I'm lacking something, but I just can't put my finger on what.


	10. THE Chapter 10

A/N: Nothing much to say really, just keeping up the good old author notes tradition...Okay so I've now written the chapter and have come back to chat about it. This is it folks, the chapter you've all been waiting for. Well, the second chapter you've all been waiting for. Guess what happens? No, I'm not going to _tell_ you, you have to read it to find out.

Merlin was in trouble. Merlin was in _serious_ trouble. Merlin was, in fact, somehow in even _more _trouble than he had been previously. In fact, if he didn't know better – and honestly, he wasn't so sure he did – he'd say that trouble seemed to follow him around. It was _stalking_ him. Every time he turned his had it seemed to leap behind a corner, only to emerge in front of him mere seconds later. Why him? Honestly. What had he done to deserve trouble's undivided attention? He certainly hadn't invited it...well he _was _a tad reckless when it came to pretending he didn't have magic. But only a _tad_. Okay, maybe a little bit more than a tad. Actually, now that he really thought about it, he generally _did_ invite trouble to his doorstep. In fact, he pretty much went to the trouble ('scuse the pun) of hanging up its coat, and telling it to make itself at home. Okay, so he was practically friends with trouble. Still, he most certainly had _not_ invited it to tea last night. He'd just...failed to realise it planned to jump in through his regrettably open window. Yes, he had pretty much walked right into Morgana and Gwen's little trap. If only he'd paused for just three seconds to consider the implications of the new 'rules'. Three seconds. But no, instead he just ploughed right into it with all the finesse of 3-legged chair. So he probably deserved it. Actually, no he didn't. He deserved _some_ kind of punishment, but this was just too cruel. He literally was going to end up a walking target. Literally.

"Why me," he moaned mellow-dramatically, dragging the skin of his face down with his hands.

"Why you, what?" Arthur's coarse and incredibly distinctive voice sounded in his ear. Merlin's heart stuttered and missed a few beats as he leapt gracelessly off of the chair he was slouching in, tripped over his own feet and somehow managed to drag Arthur down with him, even though Arthur had been standing _behind_ the chair. Which, if you do the math, meant that Merlin was lying face down on the ground, a chair resting painfully on his back, with Arthur draped unceremoniously on top of it. There was silence for all of three seconds as they both digested the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Arthur," Merlin muttered into the floor.

"Yeah?" Arthur replied, still draped over the chair and seemingly possessing no inclination to move.

"Get off me" Merlin's muffled voice didn't quite reach Arthur's ears. Carefully, Arthur tilted himself just a little bit closer to the back of Merlin's head.

"What was that?" He questioned, balanced somewhat precariously.

"Get. Off. Me." Merlin growled and started to move, upsetting the chair and by way of the domino effect, Arthur. The chair rolled off his back taking Arthur with it and then promptly turned the tables on him. The sight, once Merlin had bothered to part ways with the floor, was comically amusing. Arthur was lying on his back glaring daggers at a chair. The fact that he hadn't even moved to shove it off him made the situation just that slight bit funnier. Merlin laughed. Arthur moved the glare over to him and promptly shoved the chair off of his front.

"It's not funny," he groused as he got to his feet.

"Just a little bit," Merlin held up two fingers to show him just how funny he thought it was.

"Hmph," Arthur glared at him a little bit more before seeming to realise why he'd caused the chair-accident in the first place.

"So why you?"

"Why me, what?" Merlin hedged, he'd hoped Arthur had forgotten that.

"You know," Arthur waved his hands in the air, "why have you been moping around the castle like someone stole your last clean neck-thing – if you even clean those things - all day, yelling 'why me?' and 'what did I do?'," his arm waving became somewhat ridiculously mocking along with a facial expression that, under any other circumstances, would've caused Merlin to laugh himself silly, but, seeing as a lot of things were at stake – most notably Merlin's status as 'not a walking target' – simply caused him mild annoyance and a small amount of panic.

"It's only mid-morning," he pointed out, hoping to distract Arthur into some kind of argument. Unfortunately his ploy failed, Arthur was as uncompromising and irremovable as a pit-bull once he had his teeth sunk into something interesting. Or even something remotely more interesting than boring. Or just, anything at all that he wanted to know.

"Well that's how incredibly irritating it was," Arthur informed him, not taking the bait, "You made a few hours seem like an entire day."

"Welcome to my world," Merlin muttered under his breath.

Arthur chose to ignore his comment in favour of remounting his attack on Merlin's privacy, "so, why you, what?"

Merlin sighed, and then got really, really, angry.

"Not _everything _in the bloody castle revolves around _you_!" He yelled. (Little did Arthur know...)

Arthur blinked, then smirked, "...so, PMS then, I get it. First guy to experience it... you're turning into a girl, how embarrassing." He then ducked out of the room, mouthing 'we'll talk about this later', quicker than Merlin could formulate a plan to get back at him.

Merlin scowled and went back to his moping, now in a considerably darker mood. Damn Arthur, and for that matter, damn Gwen and Morgana too. How on earth was he going to do this? Just walk up to Arthur and plant one on him? Yeah, that'd work out fantastically. He could just see it now. Arthur'd punch him in the face and then sentence him to the stocks for eternity, after using him for target practice of course. And then there was the fact that he was supposed to declare his undying love for him. Sure, maybe Arthur would laugh _that _off, but if he then kissed him? He was doomed. But...what if Arthur _didn't _punch him in the face and sentence him to the stocks? What if he...dare he even think it, _liked_ it. Wait, why was he thinking this anyway? It wasn't as if he liked Arthur or anything, so why would he be thinking about Arthur liking being kissed by him? It had to be because...he really didn't want to end up in the stocks for eternity. Yeah, that was it. And Arthur possibly liking the kiss and not throwing him in the stocks was way better than the alternative. Way, way, better. So much better, the word didn't even begin to cover it. So now back to the problem at hand...what if he _accidentally_ kissed Arthur? Yeah, that'd work; right after he told him he loved him. He'd never connect the dots. Oh, who was _he_ kidding? No-one was _that_ dumb. There really was no way to escape it; he was going to end up in the stocks. Unless Arthur liked it... which he wouldn't, so yeah, he was going to end up in the stocks. Damn Gwen and Morgana! Well, he was going to give them a taste of their own medicine come next truth or dare meeting. Hah, he'd dare _them_ to kiss each other and see how they liked it! If he was alive...and honestly, there was a very good chance he wouldn't be. He'd have to leave it in his will or something.

Merlin chuckled out loud at the thought, 'Dear Arthur, in my will I give you...MY REVENGE. Please dare Gwen and Morgana to kiss each other. Yes, you read right.' He laughed some more, visualising the expression on Arthur's face. It would be priceless. Only, he wouldn't be there to enjoy it. Merlin scowled. Arthur, who'd come back to tease Merlin about becoming a girl, got waylaid and had been standing in the corner watching Merlin stare at the wall like a zombie for the past five minutes. A zombie who periodically laughed out loud and then promptly glared at nothing. He moved to stand directly in front of Merlin. Merlin didn't seem to notice. He waved his hand over Merlin's face...no response. He poked him.

"What?" Merlin shouted, mostly unaware of what was happening, as he leapt out of the chair and promptly bowled his assailant over with his skilful clumsiness. He'd closed his eyes somewhere during the process of falling and landing on the...soft ground? Wait, the ground wasn't soft. He gingerly opened one eye. The softness was Arthur. Oh boy. He was lying on top of Arthur, nose a mere centimetre away from his chin. A slight flush graced Merlin's cheeks as Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin panicked.

"I, er...I, I love you!" He burst out almost hysterically, voice atypically high, before almost starting a nose war as he tried to kiss him...for the dare, not because he wanted to. For all of three seconds Merlin felt a sort of warmth against his lips that was...kind of nice. He then quickly realised that said warmth was about as yielding as a brick wall. Conclusion: Arthur was _not_ happy. His hypothesis was somewhat proven true when Arthur roughly shoved Merlin off of him and sprang to his feet, backing up against the wall. Merlin rolled into a sitting position.

"Ha ha?" He tried, watching as Arthur did a rather impressive impersonation of a fish. Arthur blinked a few more times, reddened, and then literally fled the room. Merlin barely had time to register he was moving before he was gone.

"Well _that _went well," Merlin muttered. Oh well, at least he hadn't been sentenced to the stocks...yet. There was still time, he supposed, to flee the castle. It'd probably take Arthur awhile to get over the shock. The idea _was_ awfully tempting. Hmmm...Tempting; kind of like the thought of kissing Arthur again. Hang on, what? Where did _that _come from? He most certainly did _not _want to kiss Arthur again, once was bad enough! It didn't matter that his lips were warm...kind of like a fire, he supposed, when they weren't pretending to be a brick wall or some other unmovable object. He momentarily considered what it would be like to kiss Arthur and have him respond. Then slapped himself. He was _not_ having these thoughts. Not about Arthur – a guy! – although, to be honest, Merlin had kind of accepted that he just wasn't into girls. Not really and probably not ever. So maybe the fact that he was _Arthur;_ heir to the throne, irritating, childish, handsome (his traitorous brain snuck in), Arthur. And he was Merlin; lowly, man-servant boy, magic-using, trouble-attracting, Merlin. There was no way Arthur would ever feel the same. Not that he felt anything beside slight annoyance _for_ Arthur. But if he did, Arthur would never return those feelings. Not in a million centuries. Which kind of sucked because as much as Merlin might try to deny it, he sort of knew he had it bad. There really was no other conclusion he could draw from the cold hard facts. Oh well, he'd live with it, it wasn't like he was going to actually tell Arthur. Oh wait, _he already had_. Guess the cat was well and truly out of the bag. Except that, he could just claim it was the dare. Which was true, he had been dared to do it. Arthur need never know it was kind of how he actually felt. These things didn't last long, did they? Surely he'd move on in a few weeks, months, years, decades...eventually. Oh scratch that, he was going to end up a lonely old hermit like Gaius, living in the castle and serving the king for the entirety of his miserable, unrequited, life. And you know what? He'd just come up with another reason why they couldn't 'work'. He did magic. Arthur was sort of sworn against magic. Bit of a clash in viewpoints there. Especially considering the penalty _for_ casting magic was death. 'Oh hi Merlin darling, what? You CAST MAGIC? DEATH!' How awkward. Perhaps not as awkward as actually hearing Arthur say 'darling' but fairly awkward none-the-less. So he had many perfectly good reasons for not having a relationship with Arthur and only one reason to. It was a good reason though, if overly simplified. He liked Arthur. It was perhaps the best reason on which to base any relationship. Pity the cons were so convincing and potentially ending in death. So he supposed he'd better find Arthur and tell him it was a dare before he did something Merlin would regret. Like pronounce him a 'walking target'.

Now where would Arthur be? Probably whacking something with a sword, that tended to be his stress relief method. And also his method of coping with pretty much everything in life. Someone insulted Arthur? Give him a sword and he'll go whack out his anger. Some evil troll tried to become his step-mother? Give him a sword and he'll go whack out his frustration. Some sorcerer woman bests him publicly? Give him a sword and he'll go whack out his embarrassment. There wasn't much that Arthur couldn't whack out with a sword. Merlin left the room and ran smack bang into the object of his musings.

"Sorry," he apologised, raised his eyes, and then froze. Arthur was staring down at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. He stepped back.

"Listen," Arthur looked distinctly uncomfortable, "about before..."

"It was a dare!" Merlin blurted out before Arthur could say something like 'I'm sending you to the stocks', "I'm sorry but I had to do it or I wouldn't have. They said I couldn't tell you till after and by then you'd fled and..." Merlin babbled, oblivious to the way Arthur's face seemed to fall slightly at his words.

"Oh," he said quietly, "Right, of course." He grinned half-heartedly and clapped Merlin on the shoulder, "I have to get back to um, work, now so...yeah, glad we got that cleared up." He turned around and walked back the way he'd come. Merlin watched him go, a sad look on his face. Well, he hadn't expected it to get any easier. A little part of him had held desperately onto the hope that Arthur might just return his feelings. It was clear now that he didn't however, and he just had to let that hope go. It would only bring trouble, and he had enough of that already.

A/N: So I'm seeing a few more chapters here in terms of getting them both on the same page...


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